Feverish Dreamer
by Dally-Fang
Summary: She forgot them—until she suddenly landed back at the place where everything started. At the place where she finally started living and dreaming. She forgot him. When Leah lands in a vaguely familiar place, she must fight to return home. She lands in a world plagued by war and death; she lands in a world divided and ruled by chaos. Cover made by proudsgoofys.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: _Saeva Canum_

After patrolling La Push, blustering clamors emerged from the soul of the forest. With her heart beating erratically, Leah whizzed past the border separating the residential areas from the woods and blindly pursued the odorless infiltrator. Abruptly, the blares vanished. After regarding the bare terrain, she respired shallowly.

Temptation blossomed in her chest when she saw swift streaks of platinum maneuvering through the trees, bewitching and enticing her. Enraptured, she followed. Her resentment faded when a serene tenor consumed her.

* * *

A profusion of umbra monitored her when she ascended and recoiled. After deciding to elude the shadowy eyes analyzing her critically, she regarded the ample tree behind her. A lucent radiance dispersed from the core of the tree to the very roots, which stretched beyond the heart of the forest and pulsated. Imprudently, she tapped the roots and barely suppressed herself from shrieking when the bleariness in her eyes evaporated and her senses became enhanced. Blinking experimentally, she suddenly caught sight of the shadows departing. Abrupt light spurted from behind the clearing.

Leah scanned her surroundings before tentatively tracking down the splendor. But she skidded and stopped and sprung backwards when she noticed how the unearthly light transformed into a humanesque shape. An ethereal beauty with allusive, cobalt irises, flaxen ringlets, a flawless complexion, and a compassionate beam, gracefully ambulated toward her, accompanied by a sinewy frame who gradually discarded his shadowy tendrils. With his swarthy flesh, dark eyebrows, masculine jaw, severe irises, and closely cropped hair, he resembled one of her pack mates. Only his sterling eyes cast him apart from them.

"Who are you?" Leah inquired, eyes narrowed.

"I'm Carabelle, and this is Alcander," she introduced, smiling serenely. Her irises sparked with familiarity; her cheeks flushed with color. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you want to come with us?"

Instinctively, Leah retreated, pupils dilating when her animalistic side resurfaced. With coiled muscles and an unwavering stare, she rejected their offer. Carabelle frowned. Alcander tensed. Leah nearly snarled.

"I know this is weird. I know you don't have any reason to trust us, but we really don't mean any harm," Carabelle declared, eyebrows furrowed. "The Dark Forest isn't safe, especially now—especially with everything that's happening."

Leah crossed her arms and straightened.

"Be careful," Alcander warned before surveying their surroundings and nodding.

"If you change your mind—"

"I really doubt that," Leah interjected before turning around and walking away from the abnormal beings, who, after perceiving her transfiguration in behavior, permitted the darkness of the forest to devour them.

With her head pounding, she advanced, darting around aimlessly. Half-heartedly, she wondered where she was, but as she continued walking away from the heart of the Dark Forest, she wavered. Cautiously, she stopped and rested against a trunk; she breathed harshly, shallowly, quickly, seemingly disturbed by her surroundings. But she closed her eyes and slackened her tense muscles. As she respired more calmly, she heard the soft, placid murmur of a river. With her teeth clattering and her heart beating rapidly, she dashed to the creek and whooped. Eagerly, she cupped her hands together and drank before indulging herself further by submerging herself. Once she resurfaced, she trudged out of the river and mounted one of the surrounding trees. Eyes narrowed, she scrutinized her surroundings before falling asleep.

Suddenly, she straightened and scanned her environment. The puny hoots coming from the wildlife stopped, and a new, boisterous noise penetrated the silence. Leah tried to phase, but her body refused. Huffing, she threw herself further into the cover of the trees and silenced her hasty breaths; she watched, unmoving and unblinking, as two stalwart men barged into the clearing, searching, murmuring, and sighing. The youngest neared the river and inspected the puddle she produced before ruefully saying, "Someone drank from the river."

"I'm hoping it's one of them."

"Damien, they wouldn't be desperate enough to—"

"You never know, Radley."

"But we do know."

"Do we?"

"We're wasting time—"

"You're right. We are wasting time. Ly and Adara would want to know what's happening. The Bellators—"

And he stopped, exhaling sharply.

"I hope that whoever drank from the river is okay."

"So do I. Even though the poison isn't deadly, it's still dangerous. I just hope—well, let's just hope the person's okay. We'll send the huntsmen when we get back. They'll be able to find whoever it is—especially if it's Alistair. Let's go."

Quivering, she descended and closed her eyes, but she soon reopened them and gasped. Her eyesight blurred before clearing and catching sight of savage, boisterous animals slowly slinking forwards and baring their salient fangs. Unconsciously, she backtracked but tripped over tree roots; she paused, heart racing, mouth opening, eyes flashing. In an instant, the strange animals circled her before pouncing and lacerating her exposed flesh. Screeching, she battled with the ferocious beasts, clawing, biting, yelling, serrating. But she paused, throat clogged and lips chapped, when she noticed that their figures blurred and vanished. Abruptly, roguish men and women environed her, smirking, sneering, simpering. An unknown man confidently stalked forwards before nodding to his cronies, who turned and began slicing her exposed skin. Bellowing, she punched and kicked wildly, but she stopped when she noticed how their figures evaporated. Panting, she stood unsteadily but gaped when she found herself standing on sand and overlooking an ocean—an ocean composed of blood. She heard children screaming, begging, pleading; she heard people drowning, begging, pleading. It sounded familiar.

"It's n-not r-real," she stammered, shaking. "Poison. Poison. Poison."

But she heard footsteps heading towards her; she heard loud screams piercing the air around her. But those screams were hers. They were hers. Panicking, she clumsily stumbled away from the sources but retreated in the other direction when she spotted the familiar, gut-wrenching creatures sibilating and sprinting towards her. But she skidded and shook her head—even when the beasts approached her and sank their teeth into her ankles. Flinching, she darted across the vicinity and found figures streaking through the treetops. Leah propelled her legs faster and faster, throwing her entire weight forward when she neared the edge of the Dark Forest. Nearly blinding light peeked through the canopy, scorching the surrounding darkness.

"Stop! We only want to help you! Don't leave!"

But she continued until she barreled through the tree-line and wandered towards the opposite side of the clearing. The huntsmen abruptly stopped, admonishing her of the supposed horrors awaiting her.

"Leave me alone!" Leah ordered before pivoting and shrieking when the hallucinations became more vivid.

A group of shrewd, sly immortals cantered forward and flanked their leader—a beast whose glower intimidated her; his eyes showcased the souls he had stolen, the lives he had ruined, the deaths he had eagerly caused. Leah squawked when the visions became realistic, when his experienced hands grappled her throat with strength, when his irises ignited with amusement, and the souls swarming his pupils lamented.

"Plutus, let her go!"

"Is this who I think it is?" Plutus asked while petting her.

"Let her go!"

"She is, isn't she?" Plutus insinuated. "If she wasn't who she is, this wouldn't have happened. The precious huntsmen wouldn't have been brought out, right, dearest Alistair?"

His fingers tightened around her throat. Growling, with her eyes narrowing into slits, she viciously serrated him, but she whined and gulped when the scenery evaporated. Leah found herself lying beneath a tree, fingers clamped around her own throat, eyes watering, hands vibrating from shock. She froze. Reluctantly, Leah retraced her steps and ended back at the healing tree, where she dabbed the trunk and breathed more easily when the tree expelled the poison from her system. Cautiously, she hoisted herself on one of the low branches and rested her head against the trunk. Uneasily, she noticed that shrill hoots suffused with soft, responding taps. Leah rocketed when she heard susurrations coming from the tree-line; she hushed her spasmodic breaths, waiting for her enemies. The jeers intensified. Leah readied herself for the onslaught, and, after catching a glimpse of a woman stationing herself on the tree across from and hooting, she departed from her safe haven.

A squad of agile troopers descended from their hideouts, accelerated toward her, and encircled her. When they hounded her, she hysterically deflected them by zigzagging through the trees and avoiding the outskirts of the Dark Forest. Once she found herself standing alone, she looked around and listened carefully; she stood still, calculating, waiting, listening. The branches nearest to her trembled. With adrenaline coursing through her, she barreled to the opposite end, but she sidestepped their traps. Without thinking, she lurched to the outskirts of the Dark Forest.

"Stop! We only want to help you! Don't leave!"

Leah burst through the obscurity, staggering into the overly bright clearing. Slightly dazed, she centered herself and simply watched the fumbling huntsmen; she noticed how one slipped into the front of the group, wordlessly admonishing her. But she stayed still—ramrod still—until another troop of immortals enclosed her and their superior. Struck by the familiarity, she riveted the familiar figure—an immortal whose eyes captured poor souls who screeched noisily, shuddering, bleeding, relieving their bloody deaths over and over again. Leah straightened before bypassing him and charging away. But she snarled when one of his followers impelled her back. The huntsmen surrounded them before their leader shouted, "Leave now!"

Plutus ventured forward, but she promptly evaded his blow and searched for an escape. Bodies mashed together. Angrily, she kicked off one of the bodies and somersaulted behind Plutus, who quickly turned but barreled back when she punched him; she slipped underneath his legs before sweeping them from underneath him and elbowing his jaw. With his bones cracking, he smirked broadly and whistled; he rose, plucking her from the ground and laughing when she flailed and scratched his hands.

"Feisty," he remarked, chuckling. "Just like the little—"

The leader of the huntsmen blared before tackling down his nearest cronies and signaling to the rest of his huntsmen, who barged through the human layers.

"Ly and Adara must be happy to know that you're here."

Chagrined, she lurched forward and kicked his nose; he bent back but tightened his hold, while she wrapped her legs around his neck and squeezed. Groaning, he inched his hands towards her jugular, but she twisted herself around and brought them both down to the ground, where she swiftly uppercutted and groin kicked him. Seething, he cracked his neck and impulsively lunged forward. Leah tripped, hissing and sneering. But she paused and stared wide-eyed as the lead huntsman tackled Plutus and roughly gestured with his head to the opposing woods. Gratefully, Leah entered her new vicinity and continued to run until her legs ached. When she stopped, the sounds of the wildlife consumed her.

Leah scaled a tree before resting her head against the trunk and tucking her legs under one another. The whistles and catcalls dwindled, causing her to become erect. A roar, followed by the pounding of paws and responding hisses, sounded beneath her. Leah exhaled harshly when familiar figures prowled beneath her; she crossed her fingers as she surveyed the animals tearing through the forest and sniffing the air. The creatures were strange with an illumined gaze, perked ears, fangs, and a limber frame that was covered by white fur and dark spots.

The leader of the pack cruised around her. With ease, the alpha escalated. Leah darted away from the pouncing monsters, hastened past the members who attempted to ambush her, and ultimately plunged to the ground after noticing the leers exchanged between her opponents; she sped deeper into the woods to avoid the stampede behind her, but she expired forcefully when the alpha propelled himself forward. He rammed into Leah and peppered her with a combination of saliva and venom. Leah gasped when the acid brushed her flesh, but she tactically waited for him to assault her.

His subordinates flocked him. He sagged forward with the intention of puncturing her, of pelting her with his paws, of killing her, but when he caught a glimpse of her hands flying towards his neck, he retreated. Leah prodded him before clamping her hands over his shoulders and threatening to dislocate them. Her serrated teeth perforated his flesh, thriving on the spasms that immersed his body and reveling on the agony sweeping over his features. Resentfully, she lacerated him and growled when he sprung forward. Speedily, she clawed through his chest. The ceaseless _thump_ , _thump_ , _thump_ , coming from his chest warned her that he was still alive.

An incensed growl emanated from the alpha female, who, after instructing her inferiors to not interfere, challenged her. Leah accepted.

As she circled her adversary, she noticed the way she favored her left leg over her right; she focused on her distorted gaze and her unconditional devotion to her mate. She threw herself on top of Leah and flung her to the far side. With impressive speed, the alpha female landed on top of her and sprayed her poison onto her. Leah barely stifled her screams, but she grated her teeth together and thrust her hips up; she threw her off before lunging forwards and punching her repeatedly. Growling, Leah struck her temples and watched as she remained still.

When she blanched and mewled, her mate suddenly rose and pounced on Leah; he snarled before embedding his fangs into her flesh, masticating it, and injecting his venom into her bloodstream. She withered, whimpering. He howled, commanding his pack mates forward. They circled her, fangs bared, eyes narrowed, claws extended. Deliriously, she thrashed and bellowed and wilted. Growing desperate, she wildly threw herself forward, but he pinned her down and pricked her chest. Hissing, she glowered at the beast before tensing and staring, wide-eyed, as arrows flew around her. Screeching, the beasts jolted around and, with their eyes widening and breaths billowing, suddenly toppled over. Blood pooled beneath them.

In the midst of the chaos, two stalwart men flanked a petite woman who shot stranglers with her arrows; she glared and sneered before executing more and catching sight of the two alphas. Together, the trio dashed forward; the two men protected the ferocious huntress from behind, while she murdered the raging, red-eyed beasts.

Ears perked, he ran back to his mate, lowered himself, and propped her on his backside. She barked, but he licked her forehead and howled to his remaining pack mates. Together, they evacuated, narrowly missing the arrows.

Exhaling sharply, the huntress crouched down beside her and felt her pulse. Leah instantly recoiled, but she bit down hard on her lips and blearily regarded the two men who inspected her wounds. Unconsciously, the huntress swiped away her sweaty, bloody hair and nodded to her companions.

"We have to go," she ordered before rising and pursing her lips. "Admes, carry her—"

Leah snarled but choked and gasped.

"I know you don't know us, but you'll die without our help. We can't leave you like this. Please, please trust us," she pleaded desperately while sorrowfully eyeing her bloody, cleaved body.

Leah shuddered involuntarily.

"Admes, carry her," she repeated forcefully. "Aristo, make sure that the pack doesn't follow us."

Leah unconsciously closed her eyes are when she felt warm arms carrying her. The whir of the wildlife, of feet colliding with the terrain, of her heart racing against her chest, and of her fitful breaths, resounded loudly in her ears. Silence followed, but faint, astonished murmurs soon interrupted the silence.

"Delia!"

Leah was limp and unmoving.

"Delia!"

"Artemis, what's—oh no, what happened?"

"Saeva Canum," she replied gravely.

"Poisoned?"

"Poisoned," she confirmed.

"Lay her down," Delia ordered. "Don't move her too much. Lay her down easily. Okay, let's see what I can do."

Leah moaned and wheezed.

"Don't worry. You'll be okay. I promise you'll be okay."

And she blacked out.

* * *

Hello, everyone! I haven't posted anything in such a long time, so this is really exciting for me. I already finished writing and editing it, so I'll post every two to three days. I hope you all liked it! If not, I'm open to constructive criticism. :) Have a nice day!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: _The Second Wave_

She heard singing—an euphonic melody that convinced her to rest against his chest and brush the tips of her fingers along his knuckles. Yawning, she grabbed his hand and drowsily searched for the source of her sleepiness. Eyes blearing, she turned around and addressed the faceless but child-like figure. Disappointed, she forced her eyes open, but they drooped and fell.

Once she woke up, she tensed and listened intently for the symphonic voice. When she could no longer hear it, she unwound her tenacious muscles and sorrowfully scanned her bedroom. Leah exited her bedroom, crept past her parents' room, and pranced across the lawn. She envisioned her land full of adventure and fantasy—an escape from reality, a place where she would always feel accepted and desired. As she frolicked with the shadows, she saw familiar people waltzing beside her, wordlessly admiring her when she performed an exquisite relevé, soundlessly encouraging her when she performed a wobbly arabesque and supporting her as she gained experience with every failure. She could see her faceless friend performing an arabesque, and she simply copied her motions until she heard her father breathing behind her. When she turned, he praised her. Leah laughed and answered him.

After resurfacing, Leah scrutinized the nurse who dabbed her forehead with a moist towel; she recoiled but hesitated when she accidentally nicked herself.

"Don't worry," she soothed. "You're fine. You're healing. I gave you the antidote. You might feel a bit off, but you'll get over it soon."

"Thanks for helping me," Leah croaked gratefully, throat aching. "What's your name?"

"Delia," she responded, smiling slightly. Leah noticed how, when her lips tweaked up, her dark eyes flared. She noticed her feminine features: her round nose, her heart-shaped face, slender eyebrows, long, fluttering eyelashes, mahogany waves, and her thin, swarthy figure. "And your name?"

"Leah."

"Leah," she repeated; her voice slightly, but she cleared her throat and smiled more brightly. "Well, you're probably wondering where you are."

Leah nodded solemnly.

"We're in the outskirts of the Dark Forest, close to Lynceus and Adara's kingdom."

Leah stared at her blankly, lips thin and grave.

"They're the leaders of the Praeditos," Delia mentioned before scrutinizing her. "We're traveling there. Hopefully, we'll get there soon."

"Delia, we need—"

A familiar figure with straight raven locks, sterling irises covered by dark eyelashes, nicely arched eyebrows, a pert nose, dimpled cheeks, and pallid flesh, which was dotted with faint freckles, strolled forward with her companions.

"Oh, we didn't know you were awake. I'm Artemisia, but you can call me Artemis. It's a pleasure to meet you," Artemisia stated as she glided forward and stood beside Delia, who towered beside her.

"I'm Admes, but you can call me Mes, and this is my brother, Aristo," Admes introduced before bowing slightly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Aristo rehearsed while inclining his head respectfully.

"We're siblings," Artemisia clarified.

"Triplets to be more exact," Admes interjected while eyeing her with an emotion she could not decipher.

Admes and Aristo surpassed their sister in height and even loomed above Delia; the two siblings shared a similar athletic build, but their facial features were distinct. Aristo was starkly different from his sister with unmarked tan flesh, blonde hair, contoured cheekbones, broad eyebrows, a regal jaw and nose, and dark gray eyes. Admes balanced his siblings' differences by having creamy calloused skin, henna hair, contoured cheeks, dark eyebrows, an oval face, a short nose, and bright sapphire eyes, which were smeared with streaks of sterling.

"Are you okay?" Artemisia asked dubiously when Leah swayed but regained her strength.

"I'm okay," Leah reassured her. "Thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome," Admes answered.

As she stared them, Leah noticed their slow, cautious movements.

"What's wrong?" Leah questioned, tensing.

"Leah, we know that you're not one of us," Delia confided.

"What do you mean?" Leah prompted.

Conflicted, Delia nodded to herself and looked at her friends. Slowly, Artemisia nodded but bit her bottom lip, while Admes and Aristo froze and swallowed hard. Leah raised her eyebrows, but her gaze became harder and more calculative.

"I'm a healer. That's my ability," Delia started. "I can see your body structure and mental links—and I know you're a shifter."

"We don't have many shifters around here. I can probably count them all on one hand, and they're definitely not like you at all," Artemisia added.

"They can shift into anything, but the way your bones are aligned indicates that you can only shift into one thing," Delia mentioned.

"A wolf," Leah confirmed.

"So that brings us into the next topic: you're in another realm," Aristo introduced.

"Another realm?" Leah asked, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

"Yeah, there's two realms, but we don't really have any contact with each other," Admes answered.

"Except in really rare occasions," Artemisia interjected.

"Like now?" Leah questioned. Artemisia stilled but gradually loosened. Delia tensed but smiled slightly. Aristo shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-foot before looking over at his brother, who twiddled his thumbs but nodded.

"Like now," Delia confirmed.

"So, how come they're separated?"

"It wasn't always like that," Delia proclaimed before sighing. "There was only one. Everyone coexisted until a clan of vampires rose to power and partnered up with werewolves."

"Ironic considering they're mortal enemies now," Leah muttered. Delia shrugged, mouth twisted.

"So they partnered up and threatened the secrecy and lives of other species," Delia stated severely.

"It was a bloody mess really," Aristo interrupted. "Deaths from both sides."

"But we didn't have a full on final battle. We knew we wouldn't really last and, if we did, more lives would be lost. It really wouldn't solve anything."

"So representatives from every species met together and created another realm," Artemisia revealed.

"But how?" Leah prompted.

"They were all pretty gifted. Plus, the Fatales have the ability to shift magic," Aristo stated before eyeing her heaving chest and billowing breaths. "It's a lot to take in, so we'll just explain whenever you have questions."

"That would probably be best," Leah mumbled before sighing loudly and closing her eyes. But she quickly snapped them open when she caught sight of nearly blinding lights and heard heart-wrenching screams. Shuddering, she riveted them, noticing how Delia briefly stared at the ground but eventually met her gaze.

"Why am I here?" Leah questioned curiously. Delia rubbed her throbbing temples before closing her eyes and leaning against Artemisia, who massaged her shoulders and then peered closely at Leah. Aristo pursed his lips and bounced on his heels, while Admes neared her and crossed his arms.

"We don't know," Admes confessed, "but I have a theory."

"Which is?" Leah prompted.

"Well, the only ones who managed to travel through had mates on the other side so—"

Leah scoffed, eyes narrowed and frigid.

"Well, it's only a theory," Admes dismissed. His voice cracked and fluctuated; his eyes flashed and flared.

A bad one.

"So, Leah, what happened after you got here?" Artemis asked curiously, although her pupils dilated and her eyes blazed.

"I met two people," Leah recalled while frowning.

"Any names?" Aristo questioned, perspiring slightly.

"Carabelle and Alcander, I think," she repeated, frowning when she heard carefree, childish laughter. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Artemisia inquired while perking up.

"I didn't hear anything," Delia confessed before moving forward and feeling her forehead. Frowning, she retracted but bent down and looked at her pupils. "Must be the after effects. It should go away soon."

Leah nodded stoically, but her heart raced wildly.

"You said Carabelle and Alcander, right?"

"Yeah."

"And what did they say?" Admes prompted.

"They wanted me to go with them."

"And you said no," Artemisia stated knowingly.

"And I said no," she confirmed. Delia exhaled sharply, perturbed, while Artemisia paced back-and-forth. "What's wrong?"

"Why did you say no?" Aristo asked, perplexed.

"Because they're strangers."

"We're strangers," Aristo reminded her, but his shoulders tensed and his back straightened.

"It's different."

"How?"

"Because you guys helped me."

"And they wanted to help," Admes piped in.

"I don't know why you guys are making such a big deal about this," Leah snapped with her nose scrunched and her hands fisted.

"Because Cara is Ly's daughter and Alcander is her mate," Artemisia divulged gravely. "You would've been safe."

"But I wouldn't have met you guys," she pointed out. Delia curled her lips up slightly, but her eyes simmered with an emotion she could not decipher. Artemisia brightened but lowered her head and twiddled her thumbs. Admes softened and sighed but smiled. Aristo grinned, but his smile slowly waned.

"Aren't you the charmer?" Artemisia teased.

"Thanks, I try," Leah replied sardonically.

"Anything else happen?"

"Well, I drank from the river—"

"Please tell me you're joking," Admes interrupted.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Leah declared while raising her eyebrows.

"Admes, stop being rude. She's a newbie," Aristo interjected.

"Thanks."

"Welcome."

"So anyway, I heard two men—"

"Names?"

"It'd be nice if you didn't interrupt me every two seconds," Leah told Admes. He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the nape of his neck.

"Sorry. Bad habit. Continue."

"Their names were Radley and Damien, I think. I'm guessing they're messengers," Leah reasoned before tilting her head to the side and noticing how their eyes flittered across the room. "Do you know them?"

Delia hesitated, mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

"We've seen them around. They're sort of like messengers, but they're also soldiers. They're actually part of a group," Delia answered finally while casting her gaze aside.

"They're part of the Elite Team," Artemisia added after swallowing thickly.

"Like huntsmen?"

"I like that. Huntsmen," Artemisia tested, smiling slightly. "They're kinda like huntsmen. They're a specialized group that hunts down and undertakes secret affairs."

"From what I've heard, they're usually in the forest, looking for refugees and making sure our enemies don't trespass," Delia mentioned quietly.

"Refugees? Enemies?"

"We're at war again," Admes responded before putting his hands over his face and inhaling profoundly. "This is the second wave."

"Second wave?" Leah repeated, wide-eyed. Admes scrutinized her, searching, seeking but not finding what he wanted. Forehead creased, Leah leaned forward and glanced at Delia, who coughed and riveted her closely. Unnerved, she looked away and cleared her throat.

"More than eight years ago, we were at war with a man named Adastros; he had some screwed up sense of righteousness and some supposed cause that would liberate people from oppression—or something along those lines. Honestly, it's a load of crap, and no one even knows what he's fighting for anymore," Aristo spewed vehemently, angrily, hatefully, with his face reddening and his eyes darkening. "But he managed to recruit people. A whole load of them."

"It was a whole freaking, bloody mess," Admes confessed, distraught. Leah stirred, hearing gut-wrenching screams and pleas for mercy, but she violently shook her head and stared. "I can't even begin to tell you how messed up everything was. All that blood—"

And he stopped, voice faltering, lips wobbling, hands trembling.

"Anyway, that war eventually ended. Not completely obviously. Everyone was a bit shaken, a bit tense, a bit messed up, but we managed to have peace for a while," Artemisia interjected, but her shoulders slackened and her eyes dimmed. "He managed to rise again. He wasn't caught. And I think the worst part is that he has a son who has learned his ways. It'll be difficult but definitely not impossible to stop them."

But her voice wavered and softened.

"Even though they've managed to take over the Bellators," Aristo muttered.

"I'm sorry," Leah said, recoiling when she heard childish prayers and bellows.

"It is what it is," Artemisia dismissed, sighing heavily.

"So you're just refugees?"

"Basically."

"So you'll have to be really careful," Leah warned. "I'm guessing one of the other side's leaders is still in the forest."

"Did you meet one of them?" Delia asked, alarmed. Leah nodded.

"Who?"

"Plutus."

Delia abruptly stood, hands fisted, eyes wide and steely.

"I'm guessing you're familiar with him."

"Very," Delia spat, seething.

"How'd you get away?" Artemisia asked while massaging her temples.

"Elite Team."

"Then we're getting really close. We're almost there," Aristo murmured. "Maybe they'll be there."

Leah tensed but nodded. Suddenly, she snapped her head to the other side when she felt vibrations veering in her direction. Without any wariness, a child wandered into the tent and beamed in a charming fashion, which revealed the loss of two front teeth and one prominent dimple on her right cheek. With vibrant caramel ringlets, wide hazel eyes, long eyelashes that flirted with the tops of her rosy cheeks, she resembled a living, breathing porcelain doll. As she looked around the infirmary, she giggled and hopped forward.

"Hello!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, reminding her of her younger brother. "I'm Demetria, and it's nice to meet you! This is—oh!"

"I'm really sorry. Demetria just really hates listening to me."

"Because I'm right, and you're wrong," Demetria proclaimed before sticking her tongue out.

"She also likes to think she's always right."

"I'm always right," Demetria reiterated, smiling brightly.

Leah grinned, eyes igniting, cheeks brightening, smile widening.

"I'm Leah," she greeted.

"I'm Nicodemus, but you can call me Nico and, of course, you already know Demetria," Nicodemus uttered while rolling his eyes fondly at Demetria, who bounced on her heels and giggled mischievously. "And this is my baby sister, Cyrena."

A dwarfish child with lucid tawny irises framed by dark eyelashes, a flawless creamy complexion, henna tresses, and a placid disposition, hesitantly peeked at her from behind Nicodemus' legs. Nicodemus, a brawny figure with the signature copper irises and auburn locks, grabbed his sisters and smiled at Demetria, who simpered and waved at Leah.

"We can leave if you want—"

"No, it's fine," Leah decided, lips wide and bright as she regarded Demetria squirming and Cyrena smiling shyly. "Are there any more?"

"Nico, can you fetch Acastus and Acacia?" Delia asked. He consented and released his sisters.

"Make sure they don't get into trouble."

"Never!" Demetria exclaimed, appalled, but she snickered. Nicodemus grinned lopsidedly before exiting and hurriedly returning.

"Leah, this is Acastus, and that's Acacia," Nicodemus introduced.

"You can call me Cas," Acastus added, grinning good-naturedly.

"And I'm Acacia," she stated before sticking out her hand and analyzing her from head-to-toe. Leah shook her hand, hearing childish sobs and whispered promises; she bit down on her lips hard and cleared her throat.

Acacia and Acastus possessed similar features: intense ashen eyes, dark eyebrows, an unmarred pallid complexion, full lips, lustrous chestnut waves, and a tall, lithe frame.

But she saw a hunched, childish figure bending over and weeping uncontrollably; she heard pitiful moans and painful screams that embedded themselves into her memory. She shuddered before holding her aching head and spinning involuntarily. Acacia instantly steadied her and laid her down on her cot.

"Rest, Leah," Delia ordered quietly, eyes flowing and swirling with undecipherable emotions. "Rest."

And fatigue claimed her.

* * *

A harmonious song flowed around her when she reclined against his chest and skimmed his knuckles with her fingertips. Eyelids drooping, smile waning, head lulling, she grabbed his warm hands and looked around for the source of her drowsiness. Leah delved further into the woods and found her sitting nearby, cerulean eyes betraying her low spirit. With an unfocused gaze, she sluggishly turned and scrutinized her friend; his visage slowly became more sharp, exposing his childish features, which consisted of a slightly rounded nose, an oval-shaped face with flustered cheeks and wide azure eyes.

"Do I really have to go back home?" Leah questioned, pouting.

He nodded, mouth downturned.

"I'll come back tomorrow," she promised.

He brightened, lips inching up.

"Please."

"I will," she vowed.

Her eyelids dropped; her smile thinned; her heart slowed.

Once she woke up, she rose and listened attentively for the bewitching melody. When she could no longer hear it, she unfurled her muscles and restlessly regarded her bedroom. Leah carefully ambulated across her room, departed, tiptoed past her parents' room, and paraded across the lawn. When she closed her eyes, she envisioned her familiar paradise with fair citizens, exotic wildlife and mirthful, accepting friends.

As she frolicked with the shadows, she saw faceless friends dancing beside her, mutely applauding her when she performed a flawless relevé, silently cherishing her when she performed an insecure arabesque and boosting her esteem when she failed but gathered experience with every mistake. Floating beside her, her sapphire-eyed friend twirled elegantly and clapped when she copied her movements. But she tripped and nearly toppled over when her father breathed heavily behind her. Leah turned and giggled when he applauded her.

"You look beautiful, honey," her father stated warmly. "Where do you learn those moves?"

"I already told you, daddy," she said while chuckling breathlessly. "Dara teaches us. Today, I learned an arabesque! I'm not that good, but I'll practice every day until I learn it!"

"Well, I think you have the capacity to perfect it soon," her father encouraged. "Now, it's time for my little ballerina to rest. Go on, Leah. Your mother and I will be there soon."

After entering her bedroom, she paid rapt attention to her father as he approached his room and locked the door.

"Did she wake up again?"

"She did. She was dancing and, for a moment, I saw shapes. Human shapes. Sue, I don't know what's happening to Leah, but I know that it can't be good," her father divulged, causing her to quake. "She has vivid fantasies, and, after every dream, she has new abilities. She dances like a professional, even though we've never enrolled her in a dance class; she runs at an incredible speed and sees objects that are difficult to see from a distance. And I'm just so worried that whatever's happening to her is going to ruin her."

"Do you think it's abnormal?" her mother inquired hysterically.

"I don't think it's normal. I didn't believe her when she talked about her dreams, but now I'm beginning to see that she was telling the truth. She doesn't dream; she actually experiences those events, and now I'm scared of what'll happen to her. I saw moving shadows, Sue. They were moving; they were surrounding her. I just want to protect my baby girl, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."

"But what if it's her imagination? She's obviously intelligent; she aces her exams, and she's incredibly talented. She must've developed other talents while she studied," her mother reasoned, frightened yet pensive.

"What about the shadows?"

"Perhaps they were a figment of your imagination?" Sue asserted with moisture accumulating in her gaze. "No, you're right. It's not normal. I'm worried but what if—what if she has been blessed with extraordinary powers, like the figures in our legends?"

"The creatures in our legends always protected their people."

"And Leah hasn't been harmed, which proves they don't want to hurt her," Sue voiced. "I'm beginning to lose my mind. Do you think we should consult with the rest of the elders?"

"That would be a wise decision," Harry concluded with a heavy heart.

Despair bombarded her.

When the resonating tree materialized, a refulgent resplendence environed her. Swiftly, she glissaded away from the soul of the forest, eluded the shadows stationed near the Tree of Life, and hastened past the huntsmen patrolling the groves. When she neared the outskirts of the Dark Forest, she flung herself down the familiar chasm. Leah hysterically wailed and wept and whined. The tremors she had been suppressing suddenly attacked her.

She whined, but, with a final string of laments, she rose. She explored the cavern and delved further into her safe haven until she faced her friend. With glistening irises, a grimace, and palpitating fingertips, she welcomed Leah forward.

"You're just special, Leah," she declared. "They'll understand."

"They think you're evil," Leah recited. "They think you'll hurt me."

"One day, they'll understand," she reassured her, even though her voice fluctuated and her pupils dilated.

Leah gasped when she awakened. While breathing profusely, she tamed the thunderous tide of emotions that threatened to immerse her. Slowly, she disentangled her sore limbs, and, acting on pure instinct, exited the tent. The moonlight created moving shadows. As she trekked across the field, her previously softened features hardened when she saw the strange shapes walking through the woods. When her muscles became taut, her spine arched, and her mouth tightened, an impish frame sprung from the depths of the forest. The shadows ceased their movement.

"Sorry," Cyrena squeaked.

"It's okay," Leah amended before stooping down and sweeping back her fringe. "What are you doing awake? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Cyrena bowed her head, trembling slightly. Eyes watering, she swallowed hard and wrung her wrists before cautiously peering up at Leah, who patted the top of her head.

"Nightmares," Cyrena whispered, eyes dreadfully wide and frightful.

"I know exactly how you feel," Leah mentioned, grimacing but stroking her tousled tendrils. "I had such vivid nightmares that I couldn't even sleep anymore, and I was afraid because I sleepwalked, too."

"Me too," Cyrena murmured, quacking.

"You too?"

Cyrena nodded, teeth clattering.

"I promise you that one day it'll all go away," Leah promised. "It did for me. I stopped sleepwalking and stopped having nightmares, and I started having the best dreams ever."

"Really?" Cyrena questioned quietly, sniffling.

"Yeah," Leah reassured her, smiling slightly. "I promise you that they'll go away soon."

Cyrena nodded. Her eyelids drooped slightly, but her eyes widened with trepidation and her pupils dilated.

"Where's your brother?" Leah asked curiously, wondering why she was alone.

"Out there," she responded while pointing to the tree-line.

"Patrolling?" Leah guessed. Cyrena nodded.

Instinctively, Leah neared the young girl and hugged her; she tensed but snuggled into the crook of her neck and breathed heavily. When Leah hummed a familiar lullaby, her muscles relaxed, her heart slowed, and her breaths deepened. Cyrena slumbered.

"Thanks."

Leah turned, holding her close to her heart. Nicodemus advanced, sighing sadly.

"You're welcome," Leah responded before handing her to him and eyeing him as he whisked his sibling away; she tossed once but remained undisturbed.

Darkness suddenly devoured her.

* * *

Hello, everyone! Thanks to brankle1, Legacyda1andonly, and Olivia0707 for reviewing and leaving such nice reviews! I really appreciate it!

So this chapter might be a bit confusing, and if it is, I'm really sorry, so I'll just recap what happens overall... Leah ends up getting flashbacks of her past but through her dreams, but she's not entirely aware of it. But she also gets flashbacks while she talks with them, just little sounds. I repeated the dreams because, with each repetition, the dreams become clearer; she picks up more details.

The next chapter will be really long, and it'll be more about the foundation of the land that she's in. I wanted to cut it down, but what happens in the next chapter is what they explained but with more details... I think I'll just end up recapping what happens at the end of the next chapter again in case it's too long...

Also, constructive criticism is welcome! Sometimes I have so many ideas, and maybe it's a bit confusing... I tried editing some out but sometimes I miss things. Have a nice day everyone! Next post will be in two days!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: _Realm of the Fantasía_

Nine-year old Leah skyrocketed when egregious murmurs spanned across the expanse. Adrenaline coursed through her, fortifying her to the point where she departed with impressive speed and momentarily dismissed her fears. When she decamped, a dense, dismal fog pursued her, vowing to ensnare her, to tarnish her, to possess her. Leah shrilled when the obscurity nearly confined her; she bustled past the trees and scurried past the shallow river stationed near the outskirts, but she exhaled sharply when she tripped and he materialized beside her.

The obscurity merged with his intrepid, stalwart frame. Leah deceived him by quickly rising, descending, and eluding his greedy, expectant arms. Fueled by perseverance, she soared over the river and proceeded to barrel inward. The toxic haze advanced, distending until it scraped her ankles. Screeching, she propelled herself inward, narrowly evading the confinement of the repressive force.

Apprehensively, she galloped towards the heart of the forest, but she tripped over the roots of an ancient, glowing tree. Deliberately, she skimmed the base of the tree and whooped when her body strengthened. She looked around desperately, pressing herself against the vibrating tree and nearly screaming when a nearly blinding light converged with the obscurity; the resplendence combated and traversed the grove until the fog evaporated.

The light embraced her.

* * *

Leah saw that an incandescence traveled from the core of the sapling and to the very tips, illuminating their sweat-drenched faces.

Convulsing with overexertion, two people fell to the ground and touched their heaving chests.

"Is it complete?"

"The portal is complete."

"We have to inform everyone immediately and evacuate."

"Should we investigate it first? To make sure that it's working?"

"I'll go first. You all have families, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to any of you."

"You won't go alone. I will go with you."

"But—"

"We'll all go with you."

United, every member pressed their palms to the base of the tree and tentatively marched forward when the trunk became hollow.

They entered through the hollow and basked in the warmth and beauty and charm their safe heaven possessed.

"A portal will continue to exist and connect both realms, but only those who are worthy will be able to access it."

* * *

She perspired and respired profusely as she resurfaced; she very deliberately, with her heart racing and her limbs quaking, rose from the luxurious covers. As she surveyed the beautifully adorned bedroom, she hesitantly fingered the silky sheets, then the velvet cushions and the extravagant imprints embedded onto the furniture; she could not resist the temptation of bouncing on the sofa facing the front wall, which was a light shade of lavender—her absolute favorite—and had sterling accents. She could not resist skimming through the fantasy and adventure novels on the bookshelf, or running through the smooth surface of the hardwood floors, or reclining against the bay window, where a multitude of patterned, furry pillows laid; she could not restrain hersel from jumping on the platform and squealing with joy, from rolling and savoring the softness, and investigating further. Leah gasped when she noticed the expertly crafted buildings, the multitude of citizens bustling to and fro, the surrounding forest, and finally the castle she was in. She screamed and hopped and clapped with sincere happiness.

She was in a fairy tale!

"Do you like it?"

A small child with with platinum tresses, expressive, sapphire irises, and an extremely pallid complexion, wandered forward.

"Do you like it?" she repeated; her voice gentle and melodious.

"It's beautiful!" Leah exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Good," she responded before blushing and beaming brightly.

"Where am I?" Leah questioned as she looked down and found herself dressed in a lovely set of billowy pants and a matching floral shirt. She twirled, giggling when her pants flared around her.

"My mommy chose it," she reported, "but you're in the Realm of Fantasía."

"Another realm?" Leah questioned, incredulous, but with anxiousness and hope bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

"Yup," she replied cheerfully.

"But how is this possible?"

"I think it's because you're special; you can run fast, listen better, and see clearer. And you're meant to be here," she added.

"And will come here everyday?"

"If you want."

"Through sleeping."

"Through sleeping?" Leah questioned before balking and remembering he nightmares.

"He won't be there anymore, I promise," she proclaimed with conviction.

"In my dream, I saw a portal."

"That was the past," she corrected. "You saw our founders."

"And the portal? Can't I go through it?"

"I don't know. I think that's for people who can't find their own way. You can."

"So my spirit drifts and comes here?"

"That's what I think," she clarified. "You'll come here, but you'll wake up at home."

She shifted, hands shaking slightly.

"I want to come back," Leah decided. She grinned broadly before leaping forward and embracing her.

"I was hoping you'd say that!"

"Good. But what's your name?

She simply smiled.

* * *

Leah soared.

Deliberately, she detangled her aching limbs, but she whitened when her pain increased.

"Be careful," Delia soothed as she materialized beside her. "You're still weak."

"Don't strain yourself," Nicodemus warned.

"Leah! Leah! We were so worried about you!" Demetria exclaimed as she appeared beside her. Cyrena nodded, hands twisting the edge of her shirt.

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours," Acacia responded.

"Did you dream?" Demetria questioned.

"I did, but it was weird," Leah confessed.

"What was it?"

"I dreamt about this realm and—"

But she paused and looked at Cyrena, whose soulful eyes pierced her own.

"And?" Acacia prompted.

"Nothing."

"So I guess we should tell you what we are exactly," Aristo started.

"We're Infrignando, but I can travel through shadows," Nicodemus corrected.

"I'm a Populus Fusca," Delia mentioned.

"My brothers and I are Forti Animo," Artemisia verbalized.

"Acacia and I are Fatales," Acastus added.

"We'll explain more later, but we wanted to ask you something, and you have to answer honesty," Admes introduced.

"Do you think you'll be able to travel in two days?" Artemisia questioned.

"I think so," Leah answered.

"If you don't feel well, just tell us," Artemisia persuaded.

"But you really need to leave," Leah noted verbally.

"Unfortunately," Acacia stated while sighing. "We spotted the same pack healing and wandering around."

"Then shouldn't we leave immediately?" Leah questioned.

"No, we should be okay," Nicodemus orated.

"We're just taking precautions," Delia prompted. "In the meantime, don't strain yourself."

Leah nodded, perplexed.

* * *

 **Important Message!** Hello, everyone! I knew that this original chapter was really confusing. I also received some reviews (I really appreciate them!) about how they were confused about the chapter, so I decided to edit and chop it up. Hopefully, it's better. I really tried, but then again that's what's great about writing stories online because of the small community that provides feedback. Also, if it seems like I just jumped into the story, and there's no background, that was my intent. I chose the name Feverish Dreamer because Leah doesn't know what's happening, why it's happening, or where she even is. She keeps having flashbacks (which is background information) throughout, and they're very erratic and confusing for her. As a writer, I wanted to convey how jumbled up her thoughts are, so I wrote it like this on purpose. I hope I didn't come off as ungrateful or angry because I truly, with all my heart, can say that I really am not. I really appreciate honest and genuine reviews and criticism! So, yes, I changed it. I'm not one hundred percent sure if it's up to my liking, but I believe this is the only chapter that I will change because it was extremely confusing... So to sum it up, thanks for the nice reviews! And for the recap: nine-year-old Leah Clearwater had nightmares (as she described in the past chapter) where she was chased by darkness and a man who could manipulate it. However, the light and someone who could manipulate that saved her. She had a mini vision of the founders creating the portal, which is important because it shows up later, and then she meets another character. She wakes up as her eighteen-year-old self and says that she saw their history and wants to say something about the dream about the little girl, but she doesn't.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: _Plutus_

Leah surged forward when loud clamors, followed by howls and outcries, materialized from their refuge. While discarding her fears, she deserted the infirmary and bolted from the medical wing, which hastily became breached by ranting, raving, delirious barbarians with blazing irises. The remorseless and relentless varmints pillaged through their belongings, raiding and ravaging their resources, and plundering and thundering with vexation. After recognizing her essence, a strong wave of vengeful beasts barreled toward her, but she speedily seized the snout of the second-in-command, snapped it open, stretched it, and cracked it. Quickly, she clouted the upsurge with the corpse of their bloody comrade.

As a distraction, she flung the carcass on the ground, and, very deliberately, stomped on his neck and squished and smeared his blood onto the grass. With their hackles raised and their fangs soddened with venom, the pack lunged as one, allowing her to speed forward and assault them from behind. After pressing their pressure points and zooming past them, she swept forward and walloped the second-in-command, who had not been expecting her blow and died. Slightly weakened but riled, the alphas of the Saeva Canum yipped.

Suddenly, Demetria traveled across the clearing, snagged her sister by her wrist, and towed her toward her; she emerged beside her older brother, who created and manipulated lucid hallucinations, which waltzed and teased and flustered them. The delusions grew stronger, frustrating and misleading them to the point where one group slaughtered another. While emanating an unearthly glow, Delia ambulated forward, blinding and incapacitating and even draining her adversaries of their strength. She eased through the crowd, avoiding the arrows flying around her.

Artemisia hurriedly shot and penetrated through the multitude of quaking, shrilling creatures. As she executed them, she relished in the affliction exhibited in their dimming eyes, in the contortions of their corpses, of the fading jeers on their snouts. Vigilantly, and with unwavering devotion, Acastus strangled and suffocated those who neared Artemisia; the animals looping around them became sluggish to the point where their heads lulled to the side, their eyelids drooped, their respiration became irregular and then stopped permanently. Just by concentrating on a small group of Saeva Canum, Aristo trespassed their minds, fragmented them, and ultimately demolished them. One-by-one, the Saeva Canum toppled over, stares blank and mouths wide open with muted screams.

Acacia bounded toward the mass, bursting through the layers and annihilating the flock. Even when the multitude encircled her, she never became immobilized. A swarm of ravenous varmints congregated around Admes, and, when their alphas yowled with agreement, they pounced on him. Filled with urgency and frenzy, they tore through his flesh, ripped pieces of his skin, licked his blood and spat on his withering frame. Joyously, they receded.

Leah screeched and shouted and shot forward.

She hastened forward, ready to seize Admes but instead she gasped.

He had regenerated.

With agility, he slew his overly confident opponents from behind, extinguishing their lives with calculated swiftness, manipulating their frames to sweep the remaining animals, who, after saturating their fangs with venom, catapulted themselves in their direction; he captured one, fractured her spine, swept her from side-to-side, which banged and battered her comrades, and quickly impelled Leah away from the heat of violence.

On the other side of the clearing, the alphas of the Saeva Canum advanced, flanked by a few of their subordinates, who strategically propelled themselves forward, secluding the infants from the adults; they grappled and dragged Demetria before tackling Cyrena. Silently and motionlessly, Cyrena froze the female alpha with her narrowed gaze and watched as she plunged to the ground.

Nicodemus trotted forward and punched the alpha male as he bent forward with his fangs saturated with venom. Promptly, Nicodemus flogged the savage threatening his sister until his complete attention shifted to him. His liberated sister transported herself to Cyrena, and she moved her to the tree-line, where Delia and Admes protected them.

With her bow and arrows, Artemisia disabled the remaining animals, who, with twitchy appendages, toppled over and griped. Eventually, their moans quieted. Once the alpha male noticed his fallen army and his dying mate, he galloped toward Nicodemus with his fangs exposed, elongated and dripping with acid. As he lunged, his heels hovered in the air, toes clicking against the hard ground. Nicodemus reeled back his fist and smacked his temples. The misery-filled howls of dying lovers streamed around them until they died.

They departed, scampering further away from the soul of the forest and nearing the edge.

"You all have powers," Leah stated as she trekked beside Artemisia and Acastus.

"We do," Artemisia affirmed.

"And when were you all planning to tell me?" Leah questioned, exhausted and drained of energy.

"We really didn't have a chance to tell you," Acastus interjected. "We're sorry but we really haven't had time."

"I know. I was just wondering," Leah dismissed.

"But now that it's been brought up, I have a regenerative healing factor, meaning that I can heal quickly," Admes announced.

"I have the ability of mental projection, so I can project hallucinations, thoughts, and even emotions into anyone's mind," Nicodemus mentioned cautiously.

"I have the ability to overload minds," Aristo added with an uncomfortable air. "I can cause strong mental pain, which can cause memory loss, lack of consciousness, and even death."

"As you well know, I can restore optimal health to my patients," Delia started, "but I can also use the energy around me and drain others of their health."

"I absorb kinetic energy and manipulate it to prevent myself from becoming immobilized," Acacia stated while wringing her wrist. "I can become immobilized, but only if I'm completely unaware of my surroundings."

"Like when you're sleeping?" Leah questioned.

"When I'm sleeping," Acacia confirmed.

"I can travel anywhere," Demetria delivered while beaming and bouncing forward. "And Cyrena mentally."

"I can modify and control certain parts of the brain, but I very rarely use my gift," Artemisia divulged, wrinkling her nose and creasing her forehead.

"My ability causes extreme sluggishness and unconsciousness," Acastus conveyed.

"Do you have any gifts, Leah?" Acacia inquired, eyebrows raising and dipping quickly.

"No," Leah answered while smoothening Demetria's tangled tendrils.

"Are you sure?" Artemisia prompted before lurching forward, hands moving forward to lessen the impact. Hurriedly, Acastus snatched her waist, leveled her, and lingered for a moment to ensure she had been steadied; he grinned when Artemisia beamed with affection and squeezed his hands.

"I'm sure," Leah responded while eyeing them.

Along the way, as the land sloped and became unsteady, as the horizon became lighter and gentler, she became acutely aware of her allies. The group moved like a family—completely, undeniably compassionate with each other.

When Cyrena slumbered, Nicodemus cradled his sister before stroking and smoothing her hair. Demetria walked beside Leah before grabbing and intertwining their fingers. Suddenly, Leah wheezed. She exhaled and snorted when she found a familiar pack of distressed shape shifters careening through the woods. Acting on pure instinct, she bolted toward them, shouting and screaming and pleading with them as they proceeded onward, distraught and fidgety.

"Guys, wait! Jacob, Seth, Embry, please!" Leah bellowed as she accelerated toward them. "Wait!"

The pack momentarily stopped, quivering and trembling and blurring around the edges. Leah sprinted toward them, scooted closer, and blanched when she caught a glimpse of the limp woman strewn over her alpha's shaky arms. Her normally swarthy face had obtained a ghastly tint; her strong facial features had softened, and her lithe figure had weakened drastically.

It was her, she realized before recoiling. It was her.

The mirage disappeared. Feeling constricted, Leah squatted and arched her spine. Straightening, she quickly rose but heaved.

"Breathe in, breathe out," Delia suggested gently. "Breathe in, breathe out."

She breathed in, then out, and repeated.

"You saw your pack," Acacia stated, hesitating and faltering slightly.

"I did," Leah confirmed; her voice raspy and inundated by the fear coursing through her.

"We should rest," Aristo conjectured, genuinely uneasy by her deteriorating health.

"No, let's keep moving," Leah delivered as she ascended.

"Leah, maybe it's better if you rest," Artemisia communicated, perturbed by the perspiration accumulating on her visage.

"No, I feel fine," Leah repeated.

Reluctantly, they continued onward, wandering closer to the edge of the woods and passing the region where she had been bombarded by the Saeva Canum. Once they advanced and reached the area where she fought Plutus, she paused, pupils dilating and enlarging as her animalistic side resurfaced.

"Why can't I shift?" Leah inquired with an erect spine.

"We don't know," Admes claimed.

"You must have some theories," Leah asserted, growing agitated by the lack of information.

"Maybe your body isn't used to this realm, so it's being repressed by the forces in it," Acacia verbalized, "but we really don't know. We can find out if that's what you want, but we don't know."

Feeling homesick, she breathed deeply and, in an unconscious movement, grabbed the hand of the little girl strolling beside her. Demetria cracked a smile, eyes glistening and brightening, cheeks growing rouge and glowing with warmth.

Twilight arrived.

Before the darkness thickened, Artemisia shot stray animals, while the rest of them produced a roaring bonfire.

Delia cradled Demetria, who nestled further into her chest, tucked herself beneath her chin, enveloped her legs until they grazed her chin, and snatched her fingers. Once Demetria slept, Nicodemus kissed his sister's check and exchanged a look of pure earnest with Delia, whose cheekbones became embellished with rouge.

Across the bonfire, Acastus intertwined his hands with Artemisia, who, in a very lively fashion, recounted a lovely fairy tale to Cyrena, whose eyes twinkled and flickered with enthusiasm.

Smiling faintly, with her hands tightening and her chest constricting, she extracted herself from the high-spirited atmosphere. Urgently, she migrated into the obscurity before stifling and smothering the lump crawling up her throat.

When her restlessness receded, she sighed.

Suddenly, she noticed that Acacia had been sitting near her, with her back facing her, with her hands resting in her lap and her eyes flittering between the light and the darkness. Leah joined her, choosing not to say anything.

"You miss them," Acacia stated softly. "Tell me, Leah, what's your family like?"

"They're loud and noisy and not too nice," Leah confided, "but they're my family, and I love them. And I miss them. And I want to be with them again."

"They don't treat you very well, do they?" Acacia questioned, forehead creased pensively.

"I'm not nice to them, so I can't really expect much from them," Leah retaliated.

"But they love you and appreciate you, right?" Acacia inquired with her eyebrows raised.

"They do," Leah answered but her voice oscillated.

"They do love you but don't always show it," Acacia remarked, calming her. "I love my family and my friends, but sometimes it's hard to be with them. My brother's in love with Artemisia, his girlfriend, and Nico's in love with Delia. And Aristo and Admes have mates waiting for them back home. I'm the only one without a mate, and sometimes it's hard when you see the looks they give each other. They try to cover it up, of course, but you know how it is. Do you have someone at home?"

"I used to, but not anymore," Leah disclosed with her chest aching and throat closing.

"It must've been painful, but everything happens for a reason," Acacia murmured. "Maybe it's not what you want me to say, but I believe in Fate, and I don't believe in coincidences."

"Then Fate has laughed in my face," Leah asserted, chuckling bitterly.

"Or maybe it has something better for you," Acacia suggested.

"Which is more realistic?" Leah asked sardonically.

"You think you're a realist, but you're just a dreamer in disguise," Acacia declared before rising. "One day, you'll realize it."

She returned to the bonfire, noticing how they became drowsy and lethargic. After Aristo and Admes volunteered to patrol, Leah pretended to sleep by breathing deeply, but as time passed, she could not restrain herself from rising. She moved unconsciously but rapidly, hastening and hurrying past the clearing, weaving and zooming through the timbers, huffing and puffing as adrenaline surged through her. Feeling rejuvenated, she scurried towards the heart of the Dark Forest, but she suddenly stopped when she heard moans. They soon turned into familiar gut-wrenching screams.

Turning, with her heart pulsating, she hurried back to her campsite and stopped just behind the tree-line. In front of her, Plutus grappled Acacia's head, yanking and tearing off her roots and embedding the sides of her head with the mark of his nails. His second-in-commands imprisoned Demetria and Cyrena—both of whom were lying limply, unconscious and ghastly. Aristo and Admes had been contained, while Nicodemus withered and convulsed erratically.

Acastus, Artemisia and Delia continued to fight vigilantly, dauntlessly, frantically. Incensed, she rushed forward and impinged her enemies from behind. Plutus applauded her, elated by his newest discovery.

"You couldn't resist coming back," he tantalized.

Agitated by the deformed souls swirling in his irises, she evaded his cronies, whose spines became erect and still as she ambulated forward with her chin raised.

"Let her go," Leah commanded, veins popping and becoming more prominent against her swarthy skin. "Let them all go."

"My dearest Leah," he started before cackling when her eyes widened. "I've done my research, dearest Leah. I would've thought that after the first time you would've learned your lesson, but I was wrong."

"Let them go," she repeated, her patience waning.

"They're far too valuable to let go, and, assuming by the expressions on their faces, they've been withholding information from you," Plutus instigated. "And you all accuse me of being deceitful and conniving, when you all do the same thing."

He simpered, inflaming her.

"Let them go," she ordered steadily.

Plutus released Acacia, who sneered and lunged forward, but he evaded her and manipulated the obscurity surrounding them; the darkness enfolded her, snaking around her ankles and snaking upwards, towards her wrists, which were tightened and secured along her sides. Leah growled, eyes narrowing, chest rumbling, throat thundering. But her eyes widened when unexpected daggers penetrated her barriers.

She convulsed but refused to scream.

Suddenly, it stopped; the pain dissipated. Plutus had vanished but his subordinates yelled with indignation when the huntsmen detained them.

The group of huntsmen who had previously pursued her extracted the menaces from her allies and enchained them. A familiar brawny soldier lifted and steadied her.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Bind the prisoners together," he ordered.

Rushing across the clearing, Delia hurriedly healed Nicodemus, whose convulsions ended. Swiping the perspiration dripping from his brow, she propped him on her shoulders and entangled her arms around his waist; he stumbled slightly but straightened and smiled gratefully at her. Together, they walked towards his frightened sisters, who huddled close to each other but dashed forwards and latched themselves onto them. Delia swooped down and kissed their foreheads before approaching Acacia, who crossed her arms and glowered at Plutus; she seethed but stopped when Delia's fingertips slid over her her head and her lacerations. The roots of her hair reappeared, strengthened, lengthened and gleamed. The discolorations faded significantly; the lesions and gashes healed, leaving only small imperfections behind. Acacia smiled slightly but ultimately grimaced.

"Please follow me," the leader of the huntsmen ordered.

Fatigued, Leah followed her allies past the Tree of Life and the Dark Forest. Leah faltered when she noticed guards standing in front of a tall gate with their backs erect and their eyes prowling the vicinity.

Recognition briefly flashed through their eyes when their leader exposed a hidden passage; he forced his prisoners through the entrance and escorted them into the flickering abyss. Ignoring her instincts, she trekked forwards and wandered into a wide space, where a dozen of strong men and women awaited their arrival.

"Damien, Radley, tell Ly about our newest developments," he commanded. "The rest of you have to make sure our prisoners are properly taken care of."

"And us?" Leah interjected.

"Infirmary."

Recognition zipped through their eyes. She promptly pivoted but fidgeted when she unwillingly envisioned childish hands steering her down the halls and pointing to an amiable couple and a familiar-looking boy; she gritted her teeth when she envisioned herself ascending the staircase, taking a right, and entering a wide room with cheerfully colored walls. Leah inhaled sharply when the huntsman led them upstairs, to the right and into the infirmary, which was adorned by hand-painted flowers. Tentatively, almost timidly, she touched the wall with her fingertips before faltering when she envisioned a young, swarthy-skinned child with long, black locks hand-painting the walls with short, careful strokes.

"Are you okay?" he questioned.

"I'm fine," Leah replied. "I was just looking around."

"At the paintings?"

"Yeah."

"Someone I knew hand painted them," he confessed; his voice shook slightly but steadied. "She was really talented."

"She really was," Leah replied mindlessly.

She blanched when she noticed the platinum-haired, cobalt-eyed woman glissading forward, accompanied by the same swarthy-skinned man.

"I believe we've met before," she started. "In case you forgot, I'm Carabelle."

"And I'm Alcander."

"And it's a pleasure to welcome you into the Realm of Fantasía."

Leah simply stared as her figure became shorter and childish; she floated forward as an ethereal creature with platinum tresses, wide, sapphire irises, and an extremely pallid complexion. Following her, Alcander shrunk in size and his features softened significantly; his sterling eyes became wide with youth and innocence while his hair lengthened.

Dreadfully, she regarded her allies as their figures transformed. Artemisia and her brothers reduced in size until the three were exactly the same height; their faces were round, as well as their features, and their frames were thin. Nicodemus became lanky with long auburn locks, which grazed his eyebrows. Acacia and Acastus possessed long willowy bodies, but they were significantly shorter than their original forms. Delia's ringlets became larger and framed her slender face as she shrunk and became delicate-bodied.

Suddenly, she remembered.

And she promptly blacked out.

* * *

Hello, everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful day so far! So, yesterday, I re-edited chapter 3, so I hope you all check it out. I'm hoping it's a lot less confusing.

Thanks to my guest reviewer and Ash for critiquing my work because I really needed it! I hope it's a bit better? And thanks to brankel1 for reviewing!

Constructive criticism is welcomed!

So recap: Leah walks up when the Savae Canum attack them. They manage to defeat them, so they continue on their journey towards Ly and Adara's kingdom for refuge. However, along the way, Leah has a hallucination of her pack mates. She's a bit shaken by it. Then, night approaches, and she talks to Acacia, who reveals that she doesn't have a mate. When everyone is sleeping, she leaves the campsite to see if she can go through the portal, but she returns when she hears screams. When she does, she sees Plutus, who soon becomes arrested by the huntsmen from the first chapter. They go into the kingdom and into the infirmary, where everything suddenly changes.

And next update will be in two days!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: _Drakon_

Weeping quietly, with snot rushing from her nose, she rushed towards her house. The sound of cruel children mocking her flowed through her ears. She sniveled, chest heaving erratically, hands clenching and unclenching with humiliation and rage, eyes stinging and reddening as her tears inundated her. Inhaling profusely, she deliberately slowed down, entered with control, evaded her mother who talked with Sarah Black, and entered her bedroom.

Beyond her world, she visualized the secret realm she had discovered the previous day; she visualized the fantastical land with a great kingdom and fair citizens who would accept her despite her peculiarities. She visualized her fantasy—her escape from reality.

A serene tenor soothed her as she laid on her platform. Once she awoke, she rose and listened attentively for the bewitching melody, which rapidly faded but became replaced by high-pitched giggles.

"You came back!" she exclaimed as she embraced her with flushed cheeks and burly eyes. "We have so much to do! But only if you want."

"Sure," Leah replied, giggling slightly and gliding with her platinum-haired friend, who quickly seized her wrist and towed her along, bouncing and tittering with laughter. "Where are we going?"

"To the gardens," she responded, irises twinkling with elation. "My family wants to meet you."

"Will they like me?" Leah asked instinctively, heart hardening and throbbing with affliction as she recalled the taunts she had received.

"I like you," she stated sincerely. "So they'll like you, too."

Leah smiled, head bowed and eyes downcast. But she abruptly looked up when she intertwined their fingers together and squeezed them lightly. Beaming, Leah followed her down the corridor, down the grand staircase and onto the ground floor. Giggling, with her nose scrunching, she revealed a hidden passageway beneath the staircase, behind a mural, and settled in between two posts. Eyes wide with awe, Leah traveled through the passage, which instantly became illuminated with torches. Finally, they broke through but covered their eyes.

Gasping, she eyed the clearing and hesitantly tiptoed forward when she caught a glimpse of a stoney pathway; she walked closer and grinned when she saw a bustling city and townsfolk moving to-and-fro. Timidly, she waved when some residents momentarily paused and, smiling widely, greeted her from afar. Uniformed soldiers and guards meandered through the vicinity, laughing and joking but remaining aware of their surroundings. A few guards stopped, saluted, and continued onward. Blushing, she dipped her head and followed her glowing friend, who breezed towards the far left side.

As she descended the stairs leading to the garden, she whooped with merriment when she noticed a multitude of roses weaving up the handles, entangling themselves further on their vines, and drooping downward at the edge of their handles; peonies and daisies crawled up the steps of the stairs, licking and tickling her ankles. A profusion of lavender greeted her pleasantly when she stopped on the bottom level, and, when a light gale streamed around her, the lovely fragrance of the lavender engulfed her. Wide-mouthed and wide-eyed, she proceeded forward.

Butterflies with a surreal quality—an ability to expel short waves of light, which gradually faded when they whizzed by—brushed her cheekbones, thrilling her, delighting her, enlivening her further. An array of indigo flowers—shaped like bells, which opened every few seconds, stretched, and then receded back into their fold—captured her attention; the bushes stationed beside those flowers possessed the ripest, most vivid fruits she had ever laid eyes on. After blowing on a row of dandelions, she seized her friend's dainty hands, skipped and twirled in a circle with high spirits, and reveled in the sensation of the white wisps frolicking with them.

Giggling, with her stomach aching, she shouted with mirth and adrenaline; she rushed through the field, admiring, joking, chuckling, and finally plucking a Gladiolus, which, as she skimmed its delicate petals with the tips of her fingers, had a texture that reminded her of silk. Suddenly, it transformed, changing into glass.

She sighed gleefully.

"Gladiolus represent strength," she proclaimed.

"But why did it turn to glass?" Leah inquired with awe.

"Maybe because you're a dreamer," she teased fondly before listening to the sounds of playful banter, laughter, and ripples. "Come on!"

Leah swallowed hard.

"Don't worry," she persuaded her. "They'll like you."

Once they passed the wooden bridge separating the garden from the pond, she swiped the sweat accumulating on her hands and fisted her trembling hands. A young couple—a man with charcoal-colored hair, masculine features, which consisted of a square-shaped jaw, defined cheekbones, broad eyebrows, and compassionate hazel eyes, and a woman with long, blonde ringlets, which tumbled past her waist, framed her gracile features, and complimented her sapphire eyes—lounged with their son and hurled rocks at the surface of the pond, narrowly missing the lotuses floating by.

"Mommy, daddy, this is Leah," she introduced, summoning her parents, whose faces softened with tenderness when they noticed her quaking. "Leah, this is my mommy and daddy."

"It's nice to meet you," Leah began while wringing her wrist and casting her eyes downward.

"Oh, you're just the sweetest little girl ever," she declared as she knelt in front of her and kissed her cheeks. "I'm Adara or Dara."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Leah," he stated while smoothing her tousled locks. "I'm Lynceus, but you can call me Ly. We hope Cara hasn't scared you off. She can be a bit overbearing."

"Daddy!" she shouted, faking indignation.

"Drakon, come meet Leah," Adara addressed, beckoning him forward. He shyly stepped towards her with his eyes cast downward.

"Leah, this is Drakon, my twin," her friend introduced, speaking softly and placidly, inciting him into lifting his eyes and regarding her. "Drakon, this is Leah."

As she scrutinized Drakon, she noted his rounded features, his rounded face with a slightly pointed chin, flustered cheeks, wide, frightful but expectant, azure eyes and dirty blonde hair. Unconsciously, she beamed before reaching over, extending her fingers, and shaking his hand, causing him to grin but lose his balance.

"Sorry," she apologized.

"I'm j-just clumsy," he stammered, making her chuckle.

"Leah, we're having a picnic. Would you care to join us?" Adara invited.

"Of course," Leah confirmed before joining them on the blanket and settling herself beside the two children.

"Carabelle, darling, can you pass me the basket?" Adara asked.

"Of course, mommy," Carabelle responded.

As she reached over, Adara froze, enraptured by her Gladiolus; she sighed, lips involuntarily moving upwards.

"The Gladiolus flower changed to glass," Adara remarked with jubilance. "You're truly a dreamer, Leah, which is beautiful quality."

Leah beamed, blushing brightly.

Afterwards, Adara hummed an enthralling euphony, curtly exhibited an exquisite ballonné, and, after noticing desire surging and churning in her eyes, she beckoned her forward. Mutely, she pointed her feet, elongated her neck and ribcage, straightened her spine, bent her elbows, lengthened her legs and muscles, and positioned her hands around her. Slowly, she extended her fingers and arched her back in order to grab her toes. Leisurely, she slackened her muscles, retreated into her original pose, and repeated twice more. Breathing steadily, she sprouted and surmounted and beamed at her friends, who applauded her; she performed slow, sustained movements and eventually caroused with her newest comrades, who cruised with elegance but ultimately receded into their foolishness and frolicked with her. Their movements were jumbled with crazy, uncoordinated, looping motions, which made the married couple titter with laughter. In the heat of the moment, Adara and Ly twirled them around and teased them and created more outrageous moves, which made them sweat and glow with genuine happiness.

With her heart swelling with euphoria, she embraced them.

Her eyelids drooped and fluttered and reopened.

A pleasing, placid ballad calmed her down. She laid against Drakon's chest and skimmed his knuckles with the very tips of her fingers. When she started feeling heavy and drowsy, she seized his warm hand and anchored herself to him—to that realm; she searched the soul of the garden for the source of her drowsiness. She delved further into the woodlands for her comrade and found her sitting nearby, cerulean eyes betraying her low spirits. With an unfocused gaze, she deliberately turned and scanned her friend; his face softened until his childish features became blurry and fuzzy.

"Do I really have to go back home?" Leah questioned, exhausted.

"You have to rest, Leah, but I'll see you tomorrow," he promised.

"We'll see you tomorrow, darling," Adara vowed while stroking her hair.

When she could no longer hear the captivating aria, she detangled her constricted muscles and stared at her bedroom.

Cautiously, she exited, walked across toward her parents' room, and curiously peeked inside the room, where her parents slept, fingers intertwined.

Quietly, she returned and languished.

Tomorrow, she would return.

* * *

As she danced with her friends, she envisioned herself growing taller, more nimble, more graceful. Inspiring, she performed a dégagé before growing increasingly aware of the tautness of her muscles, of the instinctive pointing of her toes, of the arching in her instep. Expiring, she loosened her muscles before flexing and pointing her toes. Restlessly, Leah positioned herself for a demi pointe and nearly toppled over. After Drakon noticed her struggling with the technique, he demonstrated it and allowed her to steady herself on his shoulders; he fixed her technique and forced her to rise properly on the ball of her feet.

He praised her, so she embraced him. Drakon stuttered, cheeks tinted with rose.

From her peripheral vision, a group of curious children poked their heads from the entrance with their wide eyes prowling the ballet studio and ultimately landing on her still form. With curiosity kindling in their chests, they marched forward. Leah stood rigid with her hands shaking.

"Leah, these are our friends," Cara introduced. "This is Artemisia."

A child with straight, onyx locks, shining sterling irises, framed by long, dark eyelashes, naturally raised eyebrows, a pert nose, flushed, dimpled cheeks, and a flawless complexion, waltzed forward, seemingly friendly; she rushed forward without further deliberation, encompassed her, and kissed both of her color-drained cheeks.

"We don't bite—at least, not very hard," Artemisia joked playfully, dimples dotting the sides of her mouth. "You can call me Artemis—after the beautiful goddess."

"Excuse her. She's obsessed with Artemis, especially with her bow and arrow."

"Oh shush, Aristo," Artemisia quieted, smacking his shoulder when he snickered.

Contrasting significantly with his sister, Aristo possessed swarthy flesh, bright blonde hair, which licked the nape of his neck and skimmed his lobes, rosy, rounded cheekbones, bushy eyebrows, a soft nose with a rounded tip, and dark ashen eyes. Mirroring his sister, he marched forward, encircled her, but he chuckled when her features transfigured from horror-stricken to flustered.

Perspiration lined her brow when she remembered the jeers, the sneers, the name-calling and pointing. But she shook her head and squared her shoulders. Not everyone wanted to harm her. Not everyone.

She inspired and expired and then respired normally.

"They're something else, aren't they?"

"Admes, I resent that!" Artemisia exclaimed before simpering.

Balancing his siblings' differences, he possessed russet-tinged hair, delicate cheekbones, dark eyebrows, an oval-shaped face with a pointed chin, a short, rounded nose, and unique-colored irises.

Instinctively, Drakon side-hugged her. She clung to him before retracting and wandering towards the two nearly identical twins; they possessed sterling irises, dark eyebrows, pallid complexions, full lips, chestnut waves, and a slender frame.

"Leah, meet Acacia and Acastus," Drakon introduced.

With deliberately slow movements, Acacia encircled her, allowing her time to react, but Leah slowly enveloped her and then Acastus, whose lips tweaked upward.

"Hi, Leah. Call me Cas," Acastus greeted.

"It's nice to meet you, Cas," she answered, rapidly gaining confidence and ease.

"And these two are Nicodemus and Delia," Drakon addressed.

"Hello," Delia said as she waltzed forward with a broad beam on her lips, which immediately lighted her feminine features—a round nose, a heart-shaped face, dark brown eyes complimented by long, fluttering eyelashes, a thin swarthy frame and mahogany waves. With her permission, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and receded back in the welcoming hold of Nicodemus—a bright boy with copper irises and auburn locks—who briefly glanced at Delia before greeting her warmly.

"Do you like it here?" Nicodemus inquired.

"I do," Leah responded with sincerity.

"What's your world like?" he asked curiously.

"It's calm," she replied after hesitating. Leah could still hear the vicious taunts, the accusations, the distinctions between her and the other children, but instead of allowing her trepidation to inundate her, she discarded it from her mind. No one would harm her. No one.

After hearing boisterous squeals issuing from the entrance, she studied Cara as she flung herself on a swarthy-skinned child with soft, dainty features and sterling irises; he quickly spun her around, chuckling, chortling with laughter when she giggled and pecked his cheek, which blossomed with rouge.

"Leah, this is Alcander," Cara introduced after bringing him forth.

"Nice to meet you, Leah," he stated before squeezing her.

"Likewise," she mentioned, smiling.

* * *

When she awakened, she recoiled and reeled back further when Delia hastened forward; she immediately jolted back and sneered, but she stopped and stared at her stoically when she flinched and sprung back. Carabelle directed herself in front of her, grimacing and sighing. Her nostrils flared; her heart lurched; her palms perspired.

"Leah, please listen to us. We didn't know what to do. We—"

"Leave me alone," Leah gnarled, eyes narrowing, hands clenching and unclenching with pure, unadulterated fury, chest rising and descending erratically, mouth twisting and turning grotesquely.

Carabelle became ghastly, pasty, and sweaty as she wobbled forward with her eyes watering and dimming. Suddenly, her muscles slackened completely, causing her to waver and founder until she nearly tumbled over. Instantly, Alcander hugged her.

"If that's what she wants, then so be it."

A towering, regal man with prominent facial features traipsed forward; his jaw was square-shaped, his cheekbones were sharp, his dirty blonde hair was cropped and spiked to the side, and his eyebrows were broad and framed his narrowed, azure eyes.

Drakon.

* * *

Hi, everyone! Thanks for the reviews so far! I would like to say that I re-edited chapter 3, and I posted an author's note previously for chapter four, but I also took down the author's note and posted an actual chapter four, so please read it if you haven't already! Recap: Leah remembers her past, where she met all of them previously but forgot them. Feeling betrayed, she asks them to leave, but she finally mets Drakon, who was the little boy she always dreamed about.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: _Bounded_

Leah tensed, pupils dilating, eyes enlarging, throat constricting, muscles contracting and cramping and confining her; she croaked, swamped by the emotions gushing from her heart, coursing through her veins, altering her, brainwashing her, and submerging her completely. With perspiration gathering on her forehead, she clamped her jaw, thwarted the tide of emotions bursting from her barriers, and met his gaze.

He possessed azure eyes, which were clouded with darkness, poisoned by bitterness and hatred, dimmed of their livelihood and positivity, and overshadowed by his trepidations.

She faltered before quivering severely and closing her eyes in a vain attempt to extinguish the sight of him.

"Leave," she ordered. "Just leave. All of you."

When they left, she shrieked and howled with despair; she screeched and yelled and cursed as she desperately attempted to banish him from her mind. She had not imprinted. She had not. She simply had not imprinted.

But her heart roared with frustration and inundated her with a fresh wave of emotions, which flooded her chest, dispersed to the very pit of her stomach, filling her with nerves and forgotten butterflies that crawled up her throat, strangling her, containing her, vexing her. She had not imprinted. A migraine attacked her, causing the veins on her head to vibrate erratically and pulsate.

Stressed out, she exited the infirmary, took a right, and hurriedly descended the staircase. After experimentally extracting the mural, the cove appeared, revealing a secret passageway. Never one to miss an opportunity, she barreled towards the gate and purposefully rustled the bushes around her, notifying the surrounding guards of her presence.

Quickly, she walloped the two guards who meandered forward and pinched their pressure points, making them waver and collapse. Once she opened the gate, she whizzed past the guards sprinting her way, scurried past the tree-line, weaved in between the trees, and expertly evaded their line of sight by zig-zagging through the woods and camouflaging herself with the trees. Growing apprehensive, she instinctively raced toward the heart of the timberlands and skidded when she encountered the ample tree whose roots emanated a faint glow. Puzzled, she brushed the base of the wildwood with the tips of her fingers, but she did not feel the usual surge of energy coursing through her system.

Leah soared upward when familiar, menacing susurrations traversed the expanse, spreading and spanning across the vicinity until the murmurs environed her. Adrenaline flowed through her system. A familiar oppressive fog slithered forward, repressing the wildlife, clouding and dimming the resplendence of the tree, deregulating the previous steady pace of the ample sapling, and vouching to seize her, to poison her, to retain her. Leah restrained herself from screeching, from shrilling, from shrieking with fear when the obscurity snaked forward with the intention of possessing her.

The gloom converged with his dauntless, stalwart frame, empowering him. He cackled with dark humor, overpowered and overflowed by bitterness.

"You decided to return, even after everything that happened to you. Stupid girl," he murmured. "Stupid girl."

When he lunged, she quickly descended, ascended, and swiftly coasted to the side. Fueled by determination, she sprouted, soared over the brume, and eluded his hands. The lethal haze advanced, lengthening around the sides with the intention of encasing her, of enchanting and possessing her completely. Squealing, she attempted to propel herself out of the darkness, but the repressive force confined her.

Suddenly, the haze weakened. A new cloud of darkness assailed the suppressive force, promising to aid her—to liberate her completely. It distended across the vicinity before exposing a tall, regal man with steely irises; he ambulated forward, sneaking behind her detainer, who promptly swiveled but tottered and wheezed when Drakon pounded him. Hastily, he walloped him, kicked him, and, when his adversary spat his own blood, squatted down. His greedy, expectant hands snatched his throat, clamping over his jugular and serrating him. But he rapidly responded by bending his wrist backward and breaking it. Drakon instantly fractured his hands, dislocated his shoulders, broke his ribs, and pressed his pressure points. The obscurity vanished.

"We would've told you earlier, but you told us to leave—"

"Rightfully so," she interrupted, glowering.

"You're right, but we needed to tell you that it's too dangerous to leave right now," he started, sighing deeply. "The Tree of Life is dying, so the portal isn't working, meaning that you won't be able to leave through it. I'm sure you noticed that when you tried."

"Then how will I get home?" Leah questioned, hands planted on her hips.

"I don't know," he delivered gravely; his voice inundated with grief and despair. "But we'll figure it out soon. Do you want to come back with me?"

"I might as well," Leah orated while huffing and crossing her arms over her chest.

He detained his prisoner, hauling him over his shoulders and escorting her through the passage in mutual silence.

"Alistair, please put him in a cell and tell my parents," he ordered the leader of the huntsmen, whose wavering stare manifested his despondency.

"Of course," Alistair stated as he constrained the detainee and departed.

"I'll explain as much as I can, but I need to check up on Cara first. Want to come?" Drakon inquired, raising his eyebrows and edging toward the staircase. She complied, trailing behind him.

An elfin form, encompassed and engulfed completely by a bundle of blankets, quavered and shivered erratically with her pallid eyelids fluttering and drooping; she hacked, convulsing. Carabelle was almost translucent with perspiration trickling from her forehead, heat radiating from the top of her head, stomach clenching, bodily temperature shifting drastically, and with dark, contrasting circles forming underneath her eyes. Alcander encircled her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and watching with dreary eyes as she nested herself further into his hold.

Leah stood rigidly, appalled by her deteriorating health.

Gradually, she unraveled her nerves and plodded forward with her heart hammering, with her fingers vibrating, with her gaze unwillingly gathering moisture; she stopped when her somber eyes appraised her.

"I'm sorry," Leah apologized, unsure.

Carabelle simply smiled, wordlessly forgiving her and receding into a fitful slumber.

Expiring heavily, Drakon left. Leah hastened beside him before stopping at the entrance of her bedroom. When she entered, she realized that the interior was exactly the same; nothing had been changed. Her bedroom was still garnished by incredibly sleek, silky sheets, plush velvet cushions, and enhanced by detailed imprints etched over the furniture, heightening its natural beauty; the miniature sofa still faced the front wall, which was painted a beautiful shade of lavender and embroidered with shining, sterling accents. A plethora of fantasy and adventure novels neatly rested on the bookshelf, but one fairy tale remained out of place, delicately positioned in front of the others, begging and pleading and supplicating with her to bare it open. Itching with curiosity, she shuffled forward.

"The cover looks amazing," Carabelle encouraged breathlessly. "And the writing's amazing. Never stop writing."

Her cheeks blazed with a ripe color.

"I agree," Drakon added, marveling her masterpiece. "I really like the title: A Feverish Dreamer."

She simply smiled.

"Leah, are you okay? You look a bit—"

"I'm fine," she rendered while skimming the spine of her novel and eyeing his softening gaze.

"You should read it. It's excellent," he recommended, lips tweaking upward.

"Maybe one day. But what's wrong with Carabelle?" Leah asked, unsettled. He grimaced, muscles straining and aching.

"We told you before—when she first got sick—but you must've forgotten," he mentioned before clarifying. "After Cara was born, she was deathly sick, and my parents couldn't find her a cure. No one could. Everyone tried healing her with their abilities, but it wouldn't work. They even tried looking for the Healing Waters, but they couldn't find it. Everyday, her lungs shrunk and her heart slowed; she coughed blood and was getting closer to death. But my parents brought her to the Tree of Life, which, from experience, you probably know that it heals. They found out she couldn't be healed just by touching it, so, with the help of the Fatales, they bound her life to the Tree of Life. My parents say that she changed; she got healthier, but her appearance changed—got a bit lighter from what they've told us. But what we didn't realize until later was that anything that affects the tree affects her. Unfortunately, the other side knows that now, so they know exactly where to hit us."

"W-will she get better?" Leah questioned, grimacing when his fists shook and his chest heaved. Dread rippled throughout him, darkening his eyes and dilating his pupils.

"She will," he murmured without much conviction.

"If she got better before, she'll get better now," Leah proclaimed even though her voice fluctuated and cracked and wobbled severely. He merely affirmed, eyes downcast.

"Drakon, the prisoner's awake," Alistair reported, separating him from her, swiftly snapping him from his trance, and hardening his previously softened features. His cerulean eyes crackled, projected his fury toward his adversaries, exposed his forlornness, exhibited his fatigue and briefly revealed his admiration for her.

"Feel free to explore," he communicated, "but please don't leave without one of us. You still don't know everything. So much has changed. Ask questions, explore, investigate—do what you want. I'll be back later, and I'll try to answer all of your questions."

He left.

With her chest thundering and rumbling, she retracted and strolled down the corridor, but she instantly halted, aghast by the torrent of blood streaming downwards. A fountain of blood, produced by a hacking child with teary eyes and rickety limbs, formed underneath her feet; she bellowed and dove in, parting her hair from her path, whispering and comforting and consoling her while she vomited, limbs slackening with fatigue and overexertion.

"Carabelle!"

"Help her!" Leah yelled, horrified. "Help her!"

Leah sobbed and choked on her laments; she simply watched as the healers whisked her platinum-haired friend away. She simply watched, motionless, shocked, and bleary eyed. Drakon embraced her, soothing and tranquilizing her before steadying and lifting her up.

"What's happening?" Leah questioned.

"I-I don't know," he stammered fearfully.

Suddenly, shrill shrieks, clogged with aversion and trepidation, resounded in her ears, prompting her to propel herself towards the windows. But she reeled back when she noticed a cascade of blood flowing from the heart of the kingdom. Wilting, withering, weeping, she realized that her safe haven was no longer safe.

Revolted, she breathed in profusely, massaged her throbbing temples, and slowly strolled toward the infirmary, where Carabelle slept, eyelids palpitating, mouth opening slightly. Leisurely, she knelt beside Carabelle, propped her hands beneath her chin, and eyed her snoring form.

"Are you starting to remember?"

"A bit," Leah answered when Alcander materialized from the shadows. "I remember some things, but I'm sure I'll remember everything eventually. How are you?"

"Worried mostly—but she's strong and stubborn. She won't let this beat her," he declared; his voice dark and deep with anguish but tinged with hope.

"You look tired; you should sleep," Leah commented after noticing his lolling head and slackening muscles.

He complied before intertwining his hand with Carabelle's and caressing her ghastly cheeks.

"You're right, but I can't leave her alone for too long, or I get jumpy. And if anything happened to her while I was gone, I could never forgive myself," Alcander confided. "I'll never know how he did it."

"Who?" Leah questioned but he just stared at her and looked down at Carabelle.

Slowly, she withdrew.

* * *

Shouting, she shrunk and shriveled and shot backwards when hot, searing liquid surged through her veins, poisoning her, taunting her, tarnishing her; she deflated, pupils dilating with affliction, temples burning and aching and pulsating. With her teeth grating against each other, she retched and viciously tore through her bottom lip. Blood spewed from open, infected wounds. Her stomach churned; her chest burned; her eyes stung. She twisted and tossed and thrashed when the force imposed on her mind intensified. Leah wallowed with self pity, with hatred, with bitterness.

Her head lulled to the side, her eyelids drooped and fluttered and wavered against her will, and her frame convulsed erratically. She cried. Cackling with dark humor, stare cracking with permanent rage, jaw clenching and unclenching with deliberation, he ambulated forward with a malicious child with blood-lusting eyes. Leah flinched when the young boy glowered at her but lowered the magnitude of his power; she heaved, coughing, spluttering, but finally respiring properly.

"Calder, stay with her. I have business to attend to," he ordered. Calder complied, squared his shoulders and sneered at her shivering form when his father abandoned them.

His features were dainty—round, with emerald irises, soft cheekbones, a rounded chin, an oval-shaped face, and onyx-colored hair. She shuddered and yelled when boisterous clamors emerged from behind her prison cell. Screaming, she catapulted herself forward and swung her fists at the conniving demon who gripped her hair; she squirmed in his tightening hold, but she lurched forward again, tearing and ripping strands of her hair but not caring. Leah punched, kicked, and booted him until he plunged to the ground. When he prepared himself to inflict pain on her with his gift, she kicked his face and scrambled towards the entrance.

"Leah!"

Eyes widening with relief, she embraced a familiar man with charcoal-colored hair and compassionate hazel eyes, which reddened and watered. Hesitantly, he passed her to a familiar woman with long, blond ringlets and glistening sapphire eyes; she openly bawled, relief overwhelming her and overflowing from her heart.

"I'm so sorry; we should've—"

Exhausted, she blacked out.

When she regenerated, she sluggishly scaled and soared and surveyed the people surrounding her. With flourishing affection, with a profound sense of love and tenderness kindling in her heart, with her eyes brimming with cheerful tears, she thrust herself into Drakon's arms, reveling in the firmness of his arms, in the softness of his skin, in the warmth extending across her chest. Carefully, with soothing, feathery touches, Carabelle successfully tamed her howling emotions.

"Leah, we're so sorry for what happened; this shouldn't have happened," Ly declared while sagging his shoulders, jutting his jaw, and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his palms. Filled with anguish, he tread forward with his mournful wife, whose softening, sorrow-filled stare spurred her into squeezing her and enfolding Ly—a man she had come to love as dearly as her own father.

"Everything's fine; I'm fine, and hopefully everything went well. Did it?" Leah inquired with her eyebrows raised.

"Extremely well," Adara interjected, glowing with relief and stroking back the restless, baby hairs jumping around.

"We're really close to ending the war," Ly confessed, nerves temporarily abated. "We managed to capture Raiden and his son, Calder. Hopefully, we can help Calder with therapy and give him a better upbringing, but only time can tell. Raiden's army has fallen. Our war heroes have been returned to their homes. When we captured Raiden, we managed to find the documents detailing where the other leaders were located, and we brought them down. All we need is Alecto. If we capture him, his remaining followers will collapse."

"Do you know where he is?" Leah questioned, faith erupting from the depths of her chest.

"We have our suspicions," Ly rendered, affectionately patting her unruly hair. "Sleep, Leah. You need your rest. And once again—"

"Don't say sorry anymore," Leah interjected drowsily. "It wasn't your fault, and everything happens for a reason."

"I love you, Leah. Sleep well, my little girl," Adara proclaimed before hugging her and briefly resting her chin on the top of her head.

"Sleep well, my child," Lye added while smiling gently. When his parents exited, Drakon held her tightly, silently, lovingly.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Leah?" Carabelle questioned worriedly.

"I'm—"

Suddenly feeling compressed and condensed, Leah whimpered, clawed desperately at her quivering chest, and weathered when a strong force grappled the cords binding her to that realm; she blared, hyperventilating when her vision became blurry and bleared until she became blind. Shrieking, shrilling, screaming, she rammed into Drakon, who hollered when her frame weltered and lost its solidity.

"Leah!" Drakon screamed, attempting to anchor her. "Leah, darling, please stay. Leah! Darling!"

She was falling, slipping and sliding until she plummeted.

Whooping with relief, her parents environed her and cried and thanked the elders who surrounded her. Stunned, she retracted and latched herself onto one of her cushions.

"What did you do to me?" Leah demanded before keening. "What did you do?"

"Leah, calm down," her father while skimming the tops of her tear-stained cheeks with his thumbs.

"What did you do?" Leah repeated urgently.

"We bound your soul to your body; your soul won't wander anymore," her father verbalized, making her gasp with horror.

"I need to go back!" Leah supplicated, aghast. "I need to go! Reverse it! Please, please, please. I need to go back! I need to see them! Please!"

"You will stay here every night, everyday, for as long as you live, young lady!" her father exclaimed.

"Please, daddy," Leah begged before choking on her sobs. "Please!"

"No, Leah," her father stated firmly. "You were unconscious for two days. We can't lose you. We can't."

"But you're going to lose me if you keep me away from them. I won't be the same. Please, daddy! Please, mommy!" Leah implored, hysterical. "Please."

"No, Leah," her mother declared. "No, sweetie. We can't."

And she grieved for her loss.

* * *

Hi, guys! I would like to thank my guest review for reviewing the last chapter! I would like to thank everyone who has read so far or reviewed—it's greatly appreciated!

So, Leah finally met Drakon, but she tried to escape back to the Tree of Life; however, she encountered Calder, who's from the other side and tortured her when she was kidnapped as a child. She also finds out that Cara is sick and got sick as a child. She also figures out that her parents bound her to them so her soul wouldn't wander.

Oh, and I hope everyone read the revised version of chapter 3 and chapter 4 (it used to be an author's note but I took it out and put the actual chapter four there).

And next update will be in two days!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: _Shattered_

Blanching, struggling, heaving, she barely restrained herself from screaming with anguish and confusion.

Warm, welcoming arms settled her against the crook of his neck. Leah surrendered, tired of constantly fighting, tired of constantly having to repress herself, of having to harness her true emotions; she accepted the gloom and misery spreading throughout her. She let her tears stumble down her cheeks; she let herself to feel emotions other than anger.

The soft vibration of his chest—the comforting tone of his voice, the serenity of his whispers, the natural firmness of his arms, the faint whir of his steady breaths, and the warmth of his body—successfully hushed her restless, riotous emotions. When she composed herself, she gradually extracted herself from him; she bowed her head, slightly ashamed by her unstable display, but he lifted her chin with his fingers and, with his sparkling, cerulean eyes, restored her confidence. Grimacing, she analyzed his languish actions, the composure of his eyes, and the hardness of his features.

"What happened to you?" Leah asked instinctively.

"I could ask you the same question," Drakon responded before exhaling sharply and wiping his face with his hands. "A new war started, but some would say that it never left—that our realm was still at war with itself. That it was still in a silent conflict. That it was in a permanent stage of tension. And that the tension built up until it all blew up. It's a brutal war—a cruel one, full of anguish, full of misery, full of losses."

"It never ended, even after I left?" Leah prompted, chest tightening with foreign emotions.

"No," he answered before laughing without humor, laughing with irony, laughing with darkness—with misery and anguish. His misery unwillingly tugged at her heart strings; it unwillingly pulled at her vocal cords and brought forth a horrendous, disastrous tide of guilt and pity, which racked her chest and clogged her throat. "Now that I've answered, what about you? What had happened to you, darling?"

"Darling?" Leah repeated. Briefly, his azure eyes darkened, igniting with frustration, blazing with vexation, but ultimately receding into their usual blankness.

Devoid of any emotion, he stated, "It was your nickname. I used to call you darling all the time. If it bothers you, I can stop."

"Please do," Leah disclosed, ignoring the intensity of his gaze and the sudden rigidness of his arms.

"Well, Leah," he recited, purposefully stressing her name and causing her to stand erect, spine elongated, muscles strained with tension, eyes narrowed into slits. "What happened to you?"

"Life," she answered emotionlessly.

"Leah, I'm sorry for acting this way, but life hasn't exactly been easy here either. I've fought in this wretched war. I've seen countless people die—people that definitely shouldn't have but did. I've seen violence and cruelty in the true definitions of the words. I've changed. I'm no longer that carefree, stumbling, stammering boy, and I probably won't ever be. At least, not to that degree anymore. But I know this war will end soon, and we'll be relieved. Hard times have to end eventually," he divulged, staring intently at her. "I know you've been through your own hardships. I know you've been betrayed and tossed around, especially by the people you love and have loved. But remember, your parents did everything for you—because they loved you and still do. Your mother, your father, your brother—they all love you. They really do. Don't let their actions change your opinion of them. I know you're different now, and I know that you don't want this bond between us. I can feel it, and I'm okay with it. It's fine. Time has changed us all. It has made us into people we never thought we'd be, and I understand that. Our bond can be just that: a bond and nothing more. We don't have to act on it."

"We don't share a bond. I'm not even bonded to you. I haven't imprinted, and I never will! We haven't bonded!" Leah shouted, heart beating loudly in her ears. His pupils dilated, and his eyes widened with disbelief, but very quickly his eyes became barren of any emotions.

"As you wish, Leah," he stated, while she shuddered. "I have other matters to resolve. Have a nice night, Leah."

He promptly left.

And she unconsciously rocked back-and-forth. Uncontrollably, her frame fluttered before tottering and teetering with her limbs weakening and wobbling. Her body convulsed feverishly. She quivered and then quaked, trembling to the point where her temples were jarred, to the point where her stomach became queasy and she became nauseous and dizzy. Spinning, shaking, shouting, she surrendered to her distress.

As she scratched her chest, as she drowned in her sweat and tears, she became inundated by an overwhelming, tormenting heat. Suddenly, her hands became tainted by blood, which flooded her palms, streamed down her wrists, cascaded down her arms, and stained her flesh with her sins. She screeched, attempting to cleanse herself. Sweating, sniveling, hallucinating, she receded into the profound depths of her mind.

"Leah, please calm down. Don't try to reject the bond; your body isn't reacting well to your refusal. Just accept it before you get sicker. Please, Leah."

A sharp spasm harassed her, tormenting and overpowering her. Her agony blinded her from reality.

* * *

A deep, powerful voice resonated in her ears, intertwining and weaving with an angelic tenor. It placated the symptoms of her fever and forced her to push through her grogginess and open her palpitating eyelids. Bathed with sweat, she sought the impelling sources with quiet, incoherent murmurs, which prompted her faceless nurses forward. Voicelessly, she begged her nurses for water, and she sighed with relief when the drink was placed on her chapped lips. Greedily, she downed the water. Slowly, her vision cleared, revealing four pairs of eyes—hazel, sapphire, cerulean, and a rich, dark brown—which scrutinized her with an air of sorrow; she blinked sluggishly but pensively.

Had she imprinted?

His cerulean irises, which were flashing with betrayal, glaring with hatred, glistening with agony, burning with frustration, radiating with admiration—with sympathy, with distress, with a ferocity that churned her insides, that released a swarm of fluttering butterflies, whose wings spanned across the pit of her stomach and tickled her, and twisted her tongue with silent murmurs.

She had not imprinted!

She had not! She had not!

But her heart shouted, and the heat that coursed through her body nearly blasted her away. She promptly fell unconscious.

* * *

Whistling, she walked through the woods with her second family, giggling, chortling, glowing with happiness, and jumping through fallen trunks; she paraded with Cara, who suddenly squealed when Artemis tickled her sides and dashed away. Drakon grabbed her hand, helping her through but snorting when she switched positions with him; she burst through the tree-line and whooped at the sudden blast of heat.

The distinct scent of sea salt—combined with a warm breeze, white sand, which squished under her bare feet, a soft spray of ocean water, a faint stirring of the ocean-life beneath the surface, which created gentle ripples on the surface—caused her to jump with joy; she brushed the surface with her palms, gaping with wonder when lucent waves of light contacted her. Slowly, the underwater beams strengthened, becoming brighter and wider.

"Come closer," Drakon encouraged, bringing her deeper into the water. "Look carefully."

Serene, aquamarine irises—a shade which reminded her of the tranquility of the ocean's currents—appraised her from underneath the surface, surprising and delighting her. Leah parted when a young child emerged from the depths, bearing long, luminous, onyx waves, a glowing complexion complemented by freckles, a tall, willowy figure, and long, flirty eyelashes. The surreal quality of her features lessened in strength, but she still retained an unearthly beauty.

"Leah, it's nice to finally meet you!" she exclaimed before embracing her, wetting her garments, and giggling when she stared, with burly eyes and raised eyebrows, at the rest of the rippling currents steering her way.

"It's nice to meet you, too," Leah responded pleasantly, "but you look exactly like—"

"Erela," she interrupted knowingly. "She's my ancestor, just like Cecile is Drakon's ancestor and Alcina is Acacia's ancestor. But my name is Evangeline, and I'm a Sirenis—a Siren."

"And you live underwater?" Leah asked curiously.

"Yes!" Evangeline exclaimed with excitement. "I live underwater, in my parents' kingdom. Would you like to visit it?"

"Of course!" Leah shouted gleefully while bouncing on her heels. "But how will I be able to? I need to breathe, and—"

"Relax, Leah," Evangeline soothed. "Since you have enhanced abilities, you'll be able to breathe underwater. If not, we'll bring you back. Don't worry."

"Take deep breaths and slowly submerge yourself," Cara advised.

Leah dove into the ocean with closed eyes, which very warily creaked open and assessed the natural beauty of the ocean. The budding light environed Evangeline, but it eventually sprouted and flourished into a divine radiance.

As she propelled herself forward, she treasured the charming nature of the clownfish, which swarmed her, lightly brushing her skin with their fins; she cherished the sensation of being able to latch herself onto the shell of a large sea turtle. Schools of multicolored fish swam beside her, greeting her with their wide eyes and playful presences. They ushered them into the current which transported them to the entrance of a grand kingdom with a tall gate made of coral.

Leah swam forward. A multitude of Sirenis bounded forward, waving wildly and welcoming her forward. Evangeline snatched her hand, thrusting her away from the current and sending her through the entrance. Enraptured by the luminosity erupting from the heart of the kingdom, she rushed deeper into the kingdom with Evangeline. Fascinated, she willed herself to quicken her pace, but she flushed with color when a flock of Sirens bowed their heads.

"Do you like my home?" Evangeline questioned.

"It's amazing!" Leah exclaimed, intoxicated by the beauty.

"Thanks," Evangeline responded proudly before summoning a group of three enchanting girls. "Leah, these are my sisters. This is Lailah."

Lailah possessed long, raven tresses, a pallid complexion devoid of any imperfections, a tall, lean frame, and dark eyelashes, which framed bright blue eyes—resembling the ocean on a perfect, sunny day.

"This is Charmeine."

Charmeine possessed the signature charcoal-colored locks, the perfect complexion, the same tall, lithe build, but her irises were a stormy shade of cerulean—resembling the turbulent, roaring waves on a stormy day.

"This is Seraphina."

Seraphina strongly resembled her sisters, but her burly eyes were a unique peacock color, resembling the currents of the ocean leading to lakes.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," Leah commented, beaming when the girls hugged her.

"It's a pleasure, Leah!" Seraphina remarked, grinning.

"You're just as pretty as Drakon said," Charmeine verbalized, winking at Drakon. He blushed.

Lailah giggled, dimples dotting the sides of her cheeks.

Leah smiled at Drakon, whose eyes simmered with embarrassment and happiness.

* * *

Howling and bawling, she tossed and turned and thrashed; she resisted and constrained her instinctual desires, but, when her heart began walloping her chest, she faltered. Instantly, the treacherous emotions ensnared her heart, infiltrated it, and manipulated its strings without remorse. With her heart swelling, she fought the force spreading across her chest, settling at the pit of her stomach, and sending a violent swarm of butterflies that beat their long wings against her. Her lungs shrunk. And she could not breathe. Her temples throbbed. And she screeched. Her limbs were weak. And she could not move. Her eyes were wet with fresh tears. And she cried. And cried. And she could not stop crying.

Hesitant hands encompassed her by her waist, dragging her closer until her head landed on his collarbone. As she collapsed, he rubbed her shoulders, smoothed her sweat-drenched locks, and swiped the sweat lining her forehead.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized.

Her throat was clogged. So she could not speak. And she did not want to. She did not want to speak to the man who had damned her.

"I understand why you don't want this bond, and I'm sorry. If I had stayed away, you wouldn't have seen me and you wouldn't be forced to accept this bond. I'm so sorry. So sorry. I was being selfish. I knew what would happen. I'm so sorry. So, so, sorry," he continued. "Just accept the bond, so you can get better. We can be friends, nothing more. We can be acquaintances, but please accept the bond. I don't want you to get worse. Please, Leah. I won't force you to do anything that you don't want to do. Just accept the bond. Please."

She had imprinted.

And her heart purred with approval.

But she sobbed and trembled with anguish.

Her convulsions stopped. But she quivered with fear.

Her temples stopped throbbing. But her heart continued.

Her throat cleared. But she could not speak.

Her lungs expanded. But she could not breathe.

She was shattered. Much too shattered.

* * *

Hello, everyone! I would like to thank my guest reviewer and brankel1 for reviewing! Thank you so much!

So, Leah tried refusing the imprint bond but, in the process of refusing it, she got really sick. She ended up having a fever and remembering another event from her past. I think the event shows the relationship that Drakon and Leah had before she left. Evangeline will show up in later chapters! So, Leah eventually accepts the bond, but she's not happy about it.

Reviews and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

I hope everyone read the revised version of chapter 3 and chapter 4 (it used to be an author's note but I took it out and put the actual chapter four there).

And next update will be in two days!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: _Blast of the Past_

After patrolling La Push, deafening blares transpired from the heart of the woods, taunting and teasing and tantalizing her. With her heart beating erratically in her chest, Leah bulleted past the border separating the residential areas from the forest and aimlessly hunted down the odorless trespasser. Suddenly, the booming blusters evaporated. After not being able to detect the intruder, she snarled. By howling, she notified her pack mates of the restless essence.

Temptation budded in her chest when she noticed swift streaks of platinum wandering through the trees. Deliberately, she strolled forward when the presence lured her in. Enraptured, she followed. Her resentment evaporated, becoming only a faint memory when the serene harmony nearly devoured her.

When she nearly became immersed by the voice, her powerful but uneasy alpha tackled her, forbidding her from moving—from slithering underneath his strong, bolstering form, and seeking the bewitching tenor, which gradually dissipated. Withering underneath his stinging, severe stare, she growled and howled, but he restricted her until she unwillingly sagged.

"It's gone," he reported. "Are you okay?"

"Let go of me," Leah commanded. "Let go of me, Jacob, or I'll rip you into shreds."

"That's the Leah that we all love and hate," Jacob responded, smiling but ultimately grimacing. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," Leah confided, perturbed. "I heard noises so I came here. I was fine but then I started to feel weird. Odd. Almost as if I was not in control of my body."

"Don't worry, Leah. We'll figure out what happened to you, and we'll find the culprits," Jacob promised before patting her shoulders. "In the meantime, go to sleep, Leah. You haven't been sleeping lately."

"And neither have you," Leah remarked without any harshness; her voice shifted, losing the remaining bits of hatred and bitterness and receding into the familiar hold of misery and exhaustion. Jacob knew what it was like. He knew what it felt like to abandoned by someone he had trusted—by someone he had loved. "But I'll take you on your offer, almighty alpha. If you find out any more information, contact me. I want to know what happens."

"Don't worry, Leah. Goodnight," Jacob added.

She bid him farewell before speeding back home and slinking into the shadows as she crept into her neighbors' backyards; she quietly marched to the end of the neighborhood, climbed the tree beside her house, and entered her bedroom through the window. Forcefully, she dispelled the memories of nervous laughter, of constant glances directed toward the entrance, of elated beams, smirks, raised eyebrows, and warm, sweaty hands slowly stroking the sides of her flushed face; she discarded the memories of stammers, of stumbles, of muffled groans and screams as he unsteadily mounted the branches of the tree outside her bedroom window; she hurriedly dismissed the memories of stolen kisses underneath the comforting hold of the starry sky, of proclamations of eternal love, of a bright, promising future, of innocent, inexperienced kisses.

The memories tormented her.

But she no longer cared.

She simply reveled in the agony.

* * *

The pack congregated in Sam's house. It was tradition. And an obligation for her.

Desperation and dejection swarmed her.

From his peripheral vision, he exchanged intimate glances with his lover—her traitorous, conniving, simpering cousin—before grinning and beckoning her forward. Their chatter instantly faded.

"We have a big announcement to make," Sam declared, and her heart hammered with uneasiness. "Emily's pregnant. We're expecting a baby girl. And we've decided to get married in a month from now."

"Just a small, comfortable wedding with our friends and family," Emily interjected, giggling when he unconsciously traced the side of her stomach.

"It's about time. We've been waiting ever since those bloodsuckers finally left and Jake became alpha," Paul muttered, causing the remaining pack members to roar with laughter, with affectionate praises and good-natured innuendos, which stimulated them into entering another fit of guffaws.

Leah simply stood erect when the atmosphere thickened, when the laughter became unbearably noisy, when their stretching smiles expanded to the point where their mouths contorted in a grotesque way; her frame fluctuated when the soothing, stroking hands mocked her, when their blazing irises burned her soul, when their hopeful dispositions blighted her faith. Shuddering, with her spine arching, with her heart walloping her heaving chest, she savagely extracted Jacob's scalding hands from her shoulders; she stormed out of the room, narrowly avoiding Sam, who bowed his head, unconsciously tranquilizing the baby blooming in his lover's womb—the baby who should have been created out of their bond, out of their loving relationship, out of their sacrifices and their trials and their affection.

Leah hysterically cried when the convulsions she had been suppressing suddenly assailed her.

While bemoaning and floundering, she beseeched and supplicated with a higher force to alleviate the misery circulating her chest; she whined, but, with a final string of laments, she ascended and cleansed herself of her gloom.

The sound of their footsteps alerted her of their presences.

Reluctantly, she faced Sam—her friend since birth, her first confidant, her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first love—and mutely complied and accepted his lies even as he withered under her stare, even as he rubbed the nape of his neck—a nervous tendency she had found adorable, had cherished and teased him for but now loathed—and lied with remorse marring his features.

Heart-broken, with her throat constricting and cramping and containing her, she regarded him as he instinctively eyed Emily, as he admired her high cheekbones, the natural glisten and liveliness of her eyes, her long, straight locks and stunning smile; she simply grimaced, battling with her nerves, with her wretched heart, with the familiar sorrow, which dispersed to the very tips of her fingers, and accepted his beautiful lies.

His lies—mesmerizing and loving and oh so promising—no longer enlivened her; they invaded her, bombarded her, killed her.

She sneered, restraining herself from sniveling, from weeping, from confronting him. Instead, she deteriorated spiritually—silently.

They were such beautiful lies after all.

* * *

Leah Clearwater had been a good girl—always attending church gatherings, always taking an active role in conducting lessons, always discussing His miraculous works, always arranging fundraisers, always participating in school activities, always receiving the highest grades, always running for student council, and always pleasing her family members and her friends and her boyfriend with her tranquil disposition. She had been a good girl, complete with the polished hair, the glossy, pink lips, the long, fluttering eyelashes, and trendy clothes—always appropriate length, of course.

Leah Clearwater had been a good girl.

Until her boyfriend disappeared and pursued her cousin; until he declared his undying affection for his lover. Until her father died and her brother transfigured into a huge, hulking beast and her anguish prompted her to turn into a roaring monster. Until she cut her hair to her chin and her features hardened with grief and she unconsciously tore all her pieces of clothing and learned of her infertility and that damn imprinting process.

She was no longer a good girl; she never attended congregations concerning church, nor did she fundraise, nor did she have heated debates over the existence of her Lord, nor did she participate in school activities, nor did she receive the highest marks, nor did she run for student council, nor did she please her family members and her so called friends and her cheating ex-boyfriend. She was the complete opposite with her tousled locks, chapped lips, steely, glowering gaze, and cropped clothing, which only covered the necessities.

Leah Clearwater was not a good girl.

She simply was not.

But it no longer mattered anymore.

She was too shattered to care. Much too shattered.

* * *

Sniveling quietly, with snot dripping from her nostrils and with red-stained cheeks, she proceeded to sprint away from the marriage ceremony; the sound of the church bells, of their proclamations of love, of the quiet, pity-filled whispers, continued to flow through her ears. She sobbed, chest heaving erratically, jaw jutting, hands clenching and unclenching with humiliation and rage, eyes stinging and reddening as her tears gushed from her eyes. Exhaling sharply, she deliberately slowed down and entered the surrounding forest.

She could not stand it.

She could not live the damned life she had.

She had to leave.

She could not stand it anymore.

* * *

Once she resurfaced from her nightmare, she blearily but frigidly accessed his cobalt irises—which were fogged with an underlying but permanent darkness, overshadowed with remorse, and clouded with apology; she barely harnessed herself from swearing, from shrilling and screeching and banishing him from her sight. Repulsed by his mere presence, by the curse he placed her under, she evaded his wondering gaze, avoided the intensity of his stare—the unbearable concern which sprouted from his eyes. She simply ignored him.

"We started looking for other ways to fix the Tree of Life, so the portal could start to work properly and you could travel through, but we couldn't find anything that would actually work. There's only one definite possibility that could benefit you, which is finishing the war with our side winning," Drakon reported with exhaustion. "We've tried to guard the Tree of Life but, obviously from what you've seen, it isn't working out like we planned. I can't really guarantee much."

Leah nodded and sighed, looking everywhere and anywhere.

"I'll leave you to rest. You must be tired," Drakon rendered before inhaling deeply and abandoning her.

After unbundling the bundle of nerves clogging her throat, she deliberately strolled down the corridor; she instinctively stopped at the center, searching for forgotten memories but, after not being able to find any, she proceeded onward. Respiring profusely, she stared at the cerulean-eyed girl whose ghostly pallor brightened slightly when she noticed her. Alcander smiled slightly while his hands—his calloused but gentle fingers—smoothened her sweat-drenched hair. Almost against her will, she wandered forward with her knees wobbling and her hands shaking.

"Good morning, Leah," Carabelle greeted pleasantly, dimples dotting the sides of her mouth.

"You look better," Leah remarked softly.

"And you look conflicted," Carabelle commented. "We shouldn't lie to each other, Leah. We're far too perceptive to keep dancing over this. I look frightening to say the least, and you look conflicted. What's wrong, Leah? Is it my brother?"

Leah stood rigidly.

"He really didn't mean to hurt you. We never thought his presence would hurt you," Carabelle divulged. "We thought you'd react differently—maybe even a tiny bit happy, but we were wrong. But, Leah, please don't be mad at him. Don't be mad at us. We were once—"

"We were once such great friends, right?" Leah sniped before sighing and rubbing her face with fatigue. "Never mind—"

"Well, since we're being honest here, yeah. We were once great friends. Best friends, I'd say," Carabelle interjected.

"It's not like it matters much anymore," Leah rendered.

"Whatever you say."

"Anyways, we're better off our separate ways. He's better off anyway," she stated mindlessly before frowning and crossing her arms. "Maybe we were all great friends before. Maybe I was great friends with him before, and maybe things would've been different now if—well, you know, if all that stuff hadn't happened."

She paused, licked her lips, and looked away briefly. But she glanced at Carabelle, who propped herself on her elbows and riveted her with an unwavering, unyielding, unflinching stare. Leah swallowed thickly, hands fisted and eyebrows raised.

"I don't love him."

"I know that. I wouldn't expect you to either. People only fall in love like that in poorly written romance novels," Carabelle divulged, "or if they're really love deprived and desperate."

"Neither of which you are," Alcander pointed out.

"Nice to know I've made myself clear."

"You have," Alcander stated.

"And I'm not really the same person anymore."

"We've noticed. And in case you haven't, we've changed, too," Carabelle added, grimacing but attempting to smile.

"All of us—but especially Drakon," Alcander confided.

"Everything's changed, Leah. We're not children anymore; we're not—well, you know. Our eyes have been opened," Carabelle mentioned before coughing and wiping the edges of her mouth with her sleeves. Alcander squeezed her hands, lips tautening and tightening, eyes steeling and hardening.

"Whatever choices you make, whatever path you decide to take, we'll always be there for you," Carabelle finished before sighing and smiling slightly. "Anyways, let's start fresh. I don't think these talks help anyone."

"You're right," Leah rendered, unfolding her hands.

"Then, Leah, I have to tell you that everyone wants to see you—but whenever you're ready, of course."

"I'll see them today," Leah decided, forehead creasing.

"Good because Demetria and Cyrena have been asking incessantly for you," Alcander interjected, eyes wrinkling merrily when Carabelle giggled with agreement.

"They're adorable," Leah rendered, beaming.

"You can see them after their classes."

"They'll finish in a while, but—well, if you want, so you won't get bored—you can go train with Alcander," Carabelle offered before glancing down at Alcander's jittery hands and then looking up at him. Smiling, she squeezed his hands and watched as he closed his eyes but sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm going," he replied hesitantly, while Carabelle rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. "Do you want to go?"

"It's absolutely exhilarating. I think you'd like it," Carabelle interjected.

"I'll take your word for it," Leah answered.

"So you'll go?" Carabelle questioned.

After a pause, she agreed.

Carabelle hacked violently; her stomach contracted when she exerted excessive pressure on it and gradually unclamped it. Quickly, Alcander environed her, supporting her body with his arms, reassuring her with quiet murmurs, soothing her with his tenderness and unwavering affection.

"I really hope you feel better," she uttered once she stopped.

"Thanks," Carabelle whispered with dimples adorning the sides of her lips, exposing her rejuvenated spirit and contrasting with her fragile frame.

Leah reluctantly withdrew.

"Training starts in a few minutes," Alcander commented with distress. "We should go now unless—"

"Go," Carabelle prompted, affectionately waving him off. "I'll be fine. Plus, my mom said she'd come up here halfway through practice."

"But—"

"And there's healers here in case anything happens," Carabelle persuaded before pecking his cheek and smiling reassuringly. Fondly, he brushed his lips against her forehead and squeezed their intertwined hands. Languidly, painfully, he detangled himself from his sweetheart, who merely beamed up at him.

"If you need anything—"

"I know," Carabelle interrupted faintly. "If I need anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Good," he said before grimacing and plunging down the familiar abyss of misery.

Hesitantly, he retracted and vacated the infirmary.

"You really love her," Leah noted, feeling genuine admiration for their relationship.

"I do," he admitted. "I really do, and I really want her to get better. This war is hurting her."

"The Tree of Life, it's—"

"Dying," he whispered, "but we'll finish this war soon. It'll end soon, and then she'll get better. She'll be fine. More than fine. She has to be."

"She will be," Leah encouraged but her heart throbbed.

"She wil bel," he repeated to himself. "She will be."

And his features became stoic, expressionless, void of any and all emotion—especially of his dejection and heartache.

With perfect, expressionless composures, the pack of trainees stood by the sidelines, watching with concentration, with their eyes gliding over their fluid movements, with their eyes checking for flaws in their defenses, for their weaknesses, for loopholes. The two prodded and poked their physical barriers before avoiding blows with rapid, calculated motions. Electrified by their intensity, startled by their gut-wrenching but effective techniques, astounded by their dedication and unfaltering stamina, she concentrated further on the two fighters: Acastus and Admes, who were both physically matched—both equally determined to persevere and win.

Acastus evaded the constant flow of punches and kicks streaming in his direction by quickly ducking his head, descending, tilting his nimble frame from side-to-side, surmounting, and then rapidly repeating once more. Gaining momentum, he kicked Admes, who seized his leg and twisted him to the side before slogging him. Hastily, Acastus held his fists in front of his face, and, in mid-air, grabbed Admes's fists and clobbered him until he flung his body toward the wall. Wobbling, wavering, weakening, he marched forward, and, in a blink of an eye, bombarded Acastus with rapid movements.

"Your time has run out. It's time for a break!"

A man with onyx-colored hair, masculine features, which consisted of a strong, square-shaped jaw, defined cheekbones, bold, broad eyebrows, and sympathetic hazel eyes traveled forward, accompanied by a divine being with long, blonde tresses, which tumbled past her waist, framed her gracile features, and complimented her expressive sapphire eyes; their features—although beautiful and youthful and unique—possessed a hardened, disappointed edge, a lack of brightness in the irises, and a sorrowful but powerful aurora.

"Ly and Adara," Leah whispered, growing stronger and more confident when the two pivoted on their heels. "Ly and Dara."

"Leah," Adara murmured. "My little Leah!"

And she instinctively, unconsciously, but tenderly, encompassed her, enfolding her in her warm, despondent but hopeful embrace. Squeezing, smiling, simpering through the thickness in her throat and the tears accumulating in her eyes, she cradled her.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeated. "For everything. For everything that has happened to you. For reacting this way. Oh! I must be overwhelming you. I'm so sorry!"

Her lips rose at the sides.

"Leah, it's nice to see you again," Ly verbalized with rejuvenated spirits. "You grew up and blossomed into a beautiful, young lady—a beautiful warrior."

And his irises ignited with hope, with faith, with undying, fatherly affection.

"It's nice to see you both," Leah responded, flustered by their vigilance, by the admiration exhibited by their glistening irises, by their erect postures and the immediate softness of their facial features.

"You arrived at a good time," Ly remarked. "If you want, you can train with the rest of the group."

"I'd like that," Leah uttered; her voice soft but steady.

"Your partner for now will be Alcander. After one match, you'll change partners with whoever you want," Adara announced. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to check on Cara. It was nice seeing you again, Leah. Truly a pleasure. Please, please, visit soon."

Before departing, her husband briefly exchanged an intimate gaze with her; it was sentimental but romantic, considerate and affectionate, compassionate and softhearted, worried but blindingly, understandably hopeful. When the two separated, Adara tentatively patted Alcander's sagging shoulders and left.

"Training starts now," Ly announced. "Pair up, and I'll go around and demonstrate new moves to each individual pair. In the meantime, start now!"

Unconsciously, Leah retreated, with her pupils dilating as her animalistic side resurfaced. With coiled muscles and an unwavering stare, she circled Alcander, who mimicked her movements, who, with practiced ease, quickly lunged forward, somersaulted when she crouched, and jabbed her from behind; he inundated her with new, unfamiliar movements, consisting of high kicks, guarded fists, hasty hands, and an impressive amount of stamina. Frustrated, she bombarded him with sloppy motions: languid blows, sluggish feet, trembling, anger-filled fists, and uncoordinated hits.

"Calm down," Alcander advised. "When you let your anger control you, you don't think about the consequences of your actions. Calm down. Inhale. Exhale. Now think."

Furtively, Leah walked forwards with her fists lifted, with tense muscles, and with narrowed eyelids; she marched forward before exploding into a series of calculative movements, which he expertly avoided. Chagrined, she pounced on him, tilting his frame to the side and forcefully causing him to collapse. Speedily, with her heart pulsating, with her throat constricting, with her muscles cramping, she punched him twice before he ensnared her.

"Leah, you need to calm down. You're too impulsive. You need to think or your anger will destroy you. It'll consume you. I know that you don't know me, that you don't need to take my advice, but if you do, you'll prosper. Just calm down. Breathe. And think. Just try it," Alcander recommended. "Do you want to fight again?"

"Again," Leah affirmed obstinately.

When she noticed that he favored his right leg, she side-stepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his swinging arms; she bounced on her heels, then sprung upwards, and assailed him with a fury of quick punches, which he easily avoided. In a rapid, unexpected movement, he knocked her over. Before he could pin her down, she kicked him and surmounted when he staggered. His fists covered his face; his breaths came out steadily, but his eyes flittered between her and her right side. Seizing the opportunity, she shielded herself from the upcoming onslaught by firmly planting her feet onto the ground, raising her arms, and twisting her waist. Abruptly, he roundhouse kicked her from the opposite side and slid forward, impelling her to the ground. She growled, clearly riled by his sudden assaults.

"Inhale. Exhale," he reminded her.

Piqued, she took the offensive; she stormed forward and besieged him with punches and kicks, which barely caused him to falter. Aggravated by his nonchalance, she allowed the frustration brewing in her being to rise and flourish; she dashed forward, whizzed past him, and kicked off of the wall until she somersaulted in the air and landed behind him. Shuddering, she jumped onto his back, but, when her eager fingers brushed his neck, he expertly spun her around until her throat laid in between his two hands.

"Save it," she ordered, irritated.

"Switch pairs!" Ly proclaimed.

"Hello, Leah!" Delia exclaimed. "Do you want to partner up?"

She consented.

With her dainty, feminine features, with her thin, swarthy figure and her sweet disposition, Delia's brisk movements and aggressive techniques took her by surprise. As she kicked her ankles, as she clocked her, as she steered away from her blows, she became infuriated by her lack of knowledge, by her lack of strength and speed—qualities she valued. Outraged, Leah pushed through, and, when she attempted to jab her sides, Delia ensnared her hands and overturned her until she exposed her neck.

"You're obviously talented, Leah, but there's something that's holding you back," Ly commented after manifesting himself beside Delia. "You know what your obstacle is, so I know you'll handle it whenever you feel like it's necessary to defeat it. Right now, I can only help you with your technique. Form a fist."

Obediently, she fisted her hands.

"It would be better if you wrap your thumb finger across the bottom of your curled fingers," Ly advised, "and make sure that it's not too tight."

Leah moved her thumb from the side of her index finger and positioned it along her curled fingers.

"Good. Now, when you hit, try not to hit straight. Try to hit a linear punch, which looks like you're punching across. Align the first two knuckles with the bones in your forearm. This prevents you from breaking your ring and pinky fingers," Ly explained. "It's important for you to punch with your first two knuckles. Tilt your wrist down, put your knuckles in front of your fingers, and align your wrist with your forearm. Always, always, remember to keep your wrist straight when you tilt it. If you bend it, you risk hurting yourself."

With pride, he watched as she calmly demonstrated the proper technique for punching.

"If you want to render your opponent unconscious, aim for the throat," Ly remarked. "And if you can, keep your hands near your face. Now, we move onto kicking, specifically with a front kick. I'll go through the motions with you. First, point your foot out and bend your knee at an angle."

Together, they pointed their one of their feet and bent one of their knees at an angle.

"Now, lift your leg high and snap it out."

With considerable speed, Ly performed the front kick; she attempted but her leg would not raise to the elevation she desired and her movements were too sluggish. She sighed, addled by her languish motions.

"Don't worry, Leah," he persuaded. "This comes with time. If you keep practicing, you'll gain both strength and speed with these movements. Have you ever fought hand-to-hand combat?"

"I have," she stated while jutting her jaw.

"But were you ever taught to fight hand-to-hand combat?" Ly questioned, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.

"No," she mentioned after a pause.

"So this is your first lesson," he added. "Can you really expect someone to learn after a few seconds? No. With practice and patience, you'll even surpass me. I know you will. I know you won't let anything to get the best of you."

And she wouldn't.

While respiring more placidly, she detangled her constricted, compacted muscles and successfully tamed the frustration ripping throughout her frame until it receded into the pits of her chest. She inhaled sharply, determined to learn.

"Instead of snapping your leg out, thrust it out. The snapping motion will give you more speed and will target specific areas in your opponent, while the thrusting motion will give you more power and will push away your opponent or even cause severe damage," he added. "Try each move twice."

After pointing her foot and angling her knee, she lifted her leg and promptly snapped it. Slightly unbalanced, she staggered back but she retreated into the proper stance; she snapped her leg forward, gaining speed and balance and elevating her leg further than before. Feeling accomplished, she retired into the familiar position and thrust her leg forward, which pushed her back a few steps. Again, she thrust her leg forward and savored the power surging through her.

"Excellent, Leah," Ly praised, grinning. "Do you want to continue?"

She affirmed, exulted with her progress.

"The next type of kick is a sidekick, which is similar to the technique for the front kick; your knee must be bent at the same, 90 degree angle, but your supporting foot pivots 180 degrees with your toes pointing away from your opponent," Ly orated while demonstrating the motions with fluidity. "The leg that you're using for kicking is then snapped out, and your body weight is placed over the supporting leg to maintain your balance. With this motion, you hit with your heel, but always make sure that your toes are slightly turned down to minimize the risk of injury. If you want speed, use your front leg. If you want power, use the back. We'll start with a back leg sidekick since it's easier to do."

After bending her knee at the correct angle, she pivoted her leg 180 degrees, keeping close attention on pointing her toes away. In one, instinctive motion, she snapped out her leg and depended on her supporting leg to maintain her balance. With felicity, she repeated twice more, gaining impressive results with each kick.

"Great job, Leah!" Delia exclaimed with enthusiasm.

"You're doing a great job, Leah. Now, perform a front leg sidekick and make sure you turn down your toes slightly," Ly mentioned.

With more confidence and agility, she followed through the familiar movements three times before receding back into her initial stance. She pivoted and involuntarily beamed when her trainer appraised her with his encouragements, with his glistening irises, with his constant smiles of approval. She smiled more broadly when Delia applauded her.

"The next move is a round kick, which involves lifting your kicking leg—but make sure that your knee is also bent at a 90 degree angle. Swing your leg around in an arc motion, but the inner side of your leg must be parallel to the ground and your foot should snap out. Keep your foot pointed for maximum impact," Ly proclaimed as he exhibited the proper technique. "This can also be performed with the front part of your leg and the back. Front round kicks are faster than back round kicks, but they're less powerful. However, I recommend using a front round kick more often because back round kicks are easier to counter. Try both three times."

With patience and tranquility, with her kicking leg unconsciously ascending, with her knees bending at a 90 degree angle, she swung her leg around in an arc formation before quickly snapping out her foot and keeping her toes pointed. Satisfied, she repeated twice on the front before repeating three times on her back leg.

"Now, for the last kick. This is called the crescent kick because it's a circular kick that can be performed inside out or outside in. You have to swing your leg as high as you possibly can and then you quickly bring it down with the intention of hitting the head or the shoulder of your opponent. Concentrate on lifting your kicking leg up and across the body once you lift it up; then bring it down on your target and fall back into your initial position," Ly mentioned before showing her his gracefulness, his nimbleness and facility, with the moves. "For this move, you need to strike someone to learn the proper technique, so you have to practice on me. Pretend I'm your enemy. Kick me as hard as you can."

"If you say so," she mumbled before dubiously regarding her trainer, who towered over her, who completely overwhelmed her as she glanced down at her kicking leg and his height.

After she accepted the challenge, she eased into the steps, flowing through the movements with serenity, gaining speed and momentum as she swung her kicking leg to the highest height she possibly could and across his body; she forced her leg to descend upon his shoulders, but she groaned and staggered back when her leg began to ache.

"Are you okay?" Ly inquired while righting her.

"I'm fine. Completely fine," she stated; her voice laced with disappointment.

"Leah, you made amazing progress! Don't be discouraged!" Delia exclaimed, lightening her dampened mood.

"Leah, you've made incredible progress!" Acacia shouted from the other end of the training center. She slid forward, accompanied by her companions.

Quickly, she evaded his overbearingly prideful expression by focusing on her bouncing ally, who cautiously, sluggishly, encircled her, squeezing her and reassuring her with her presence. One-by-one, with their warm, persuasive essences, they calmed her down.

"It's an immense relief to see you again, Leah," Acacia verbalized, expressing her contentment.

"We were afraid you'd never want to see us again," Artemisia vocalized while wringing her wrists.

"We're sorry, Leah," Admes added.

"Really sorry," Aristo mentioned.

"We know that we shouldn't have lied to you," Acastus declared. "It was wrong."

"I was angry, but I know that I wouldn't have accepted your help any other way. I didn't accept help in the first place, when it was offered to me. I'm grateful for your help, but let's not lie to each other anymore, and hopefully we can put all of this past us. Start fresh," Leah uttered, receiving soft smiles and agreements. "And Alcander, I'm s-sorry for not accepting your advice. It was good advice."

He simply smiled.

"Training always starts early in the mornings if you want to join us," Ly announced. "Usually, Adara and I alternate. How about it, Leah?"

"I'd like that," Leah stated.

"Well, it'll be a pleasure to see you everyday," Ly verbalized. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to check up on Cara. Drakon, don't forget to come to the investigation around ten minutes earlier than scheduled. We have certain matters to discuss beforehand."

"Actually, I'll go with you to visit Cara," Drakon announced.

"And I'll go, too," Alcander declared, excusing himself as he vacated the vicinity.

"So, Leah, my sisters have been asking about you. Would you like to see them again?" Nicodemus asked.

"Of course."

Once she ascended the staircase, she unconsciously strolled down the corridor, following the joyous sounds of high-pitched giggles, booming laughter, harmonious music, fast-paced footsteps, jumps, squeals, and encouraging praises. When she stopped at the entrance of the ballet studio, she riveted the simpering, singing girls with delight, with rising lips and twinkling eyes; she perceived the young sisters with admiration when they expertly performed a tours en l'air, landing with grace and rigidness when they receded back into a fifth position. Leah applauded, charmed by their demonstration.

"Leah!" Cyrena exclaimed. "Leah, I'm happy you're here!"

"Me too! Oh, we have so much to tell you, Leah!" Demetria vocalized before sprinting forward with Cyrena and leaping into her arms.

"Are you m-mad?" Cyrena questioned curiously, eyes widening with momentary trepidation.

"Of course not," Leah rendered with softening features. "I could never be angry with you two."

"Good because we have so much to tell you—so much to show you!" Demetria verbalized while grinning widely. "But there's people here who want to see you."

"Demetria," Nicodemus warned, but she simply shushed him.

Growing increasingly wary, she surveyed the vicinity and wheezed with astonishment when she caught a glimpse of a slender but curvaceous figure with long, raven ringlets, a complexion devoid of any imperfections, and bright blue eyes, which resembled the ocean on a perfect, luminous morning. From her peripheral vision, a tall, statuesque teenager with onyx tresses and stormy cerulean irises, which resembled the turbulent, roaring waves of the ocean on a blustery day, admired her from afar. A shapely, budding beauty with unique, peacock-colored irises, which strongly reminded her of the currents that led to lakes, beamed at her.

"Lailah, Charmeine, Seraphina," she recited, breathless.

"Leah, it's been a such a long time," Lailah reported.

"Nine years," Charmeine added quietly.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Seraphina glissaded forward and embraced her.

"It's such a pleasure to see you again, Leah," Seraphina whispered before retracting. "I'm so sorry, but it's been such a long time, and you left without notice. It was really hard for all of us, and it must've been really hard for you, too. Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry! I'm rambling."

Leah compulsively coddled her and allowed her to nestle herself further into her arms.

"How old are you now?" Leah questioned.

"Fifteen," she responded; voice faint and unsteady, inundated by accumulating tears and raw apprehension.

"Just like my brother, Seth," Leah mentioned, suddenly homesick. "And Charmeine, you and Lailah are both twins; you're both seventeen, right?"

"We are," Lailah answered, surprised.

"Do you remember everything?" Charmeine inquired.

"Not everything but just some bits and pieces," Leah replied, puzzled by her own recollections. "At some point, my memory will come back completely."

"Do you want it to come back?" Seraphina asked with interest.

Did she?

"How about we just catch up on what we've all missed?" Lailah interjected. Aristo wrapped his arms around her waist. "Aristo is my mate."

"Mes is mine," Charmeine divulged, smiling when Admes intertwined his fingers with hers.

"Seraphina, do you have a mate?" Leah questioned with genuine curiosity.

"I haven't met him yet," she commented, eyes downcast. "Micah, our older brother, hasn't either, but my younger siblings have."

"You have more?" Leah questioned, intrigued.

"Oh, yes," Seraphina responded, tittering with laughter. "We have seven younger siblings now; two new sets of twins. Our lives are chaotic together, but at least we're never bored."

"They're living with our parents, but they visit regularly," Lailah remarked. "You'll meet them soon."

"I think we might be overwhelming you," Artemisia voiced. "It's time for lunch anyway. Do you want to join us, Leah?"

She consented, feeling slightly stressed. Demetria and Cyrena each grabbed one of her hands, intertwining their fingers with hers. Leah smiled.

* * *

Hi, guys! I would like to thank my guest reviewer, brankel1 and rakikiel for reviewing! And I would like to thank all of you who have read my story so far!

rakikiel, your review was a great relief because I wasn't sure if I was getting my whole purposeful confusion point across, and you're right about the recaps. If I want to keep it going, then maybe I should stop them. Thank you so much for reviewing!

So, from now on, I won't recap unless someone wants me to. You can either review asking for it, or you can private message me if you need further explanation. Thank you, guys!

Update will be in two days!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: _Calder_

A boisterous combination of laughter, of chatter, of sudden uproars, of hilarious jokes, of constant prodding and teasing and stretching smiles, streamed around her, calming her but reminding her of her homeland, of her pack mates, of her brothers.

"Did you enjoy your lunch, Leah?" Delia inquired.

"It was very delicious. Thank you," Leah responded.

"You're absolutely welcome," Delia replied, smiling faintly.

Abruptly, a procession of synchronized footsteps sounded, capturing her attention. Leah swiveled, eyeing the expressionless soldiers as they marched down the corridors and headed toward their headquarters.

"What's happening?" Leah questioned.

"They must've found out some new information, or maybe they've rescheduled the afternoon interview, but I'm not sure. It would be best if we asked Adara and Ly," Acacia divulged, mystified.

"Definitely," Aristo affirmed.

"And Plutus?" Leah questioned, fists trembling.

"In the prisons," Acacia answered. "I'm sure we'll get something out of him soon."

"Can we visit Cara?" Demetria interjected.

"When you two finish eating," Nicodemus uttered.

"But we already have," Demetria retaliated. Nicodemus consented, looking momentarily troubled.

"Are you coming, Leah?" Artemisia asked after rising.

"Would I be intruding?" Leah questioned.

"Of course not," Admes responded. "You're a part of us, and you should know everything that we know."

After lumbering down the corridors, after roaming their public headquarters and treading inside a private quarter, which had been armed with vigilant warriors who monitored her as she bypassed them, she surveyed the two dauntless leaders as they communed with their eldest son and their future son-in-law. Their private advisors secured the vicinity before taking a gander at the prisoner, who leisurely trekked along the perimeter of the chamber and occasionally smirked up at them from the glass. She solemnly glanced at him before recoiling when her torturous memories sprung into her mind.

Calder.

Leah barely stopped herself from maiming him.

"He never fully assimilated into our society; he was too bitter about his father's imprisonment and later his assassination," Ly recited. "It's understandable, of course, but we always had hope that he would grow up as a respectable, driven young man. And he did. In a way. Respectable to those who fight on the other side of the war. Driven—in order to destroy us."

Sneering, sniggering, smirking, he strutted forward, infuriating her with his mere presence and unnerving her further when he pressed his hands against the glass.

"And you brought little, lovely Leah to see me. What a pleasant surprise! We always did have a lot of fun," Calder taunted with malice.

Leah barely restrained herself from assaulting him, from tearing him apart, from shedding his blood. From her peripheral vision, Drakon traipsed forward when the detainee moderately inclined his head in his direction but ultimately settled on her trembling form. He regarded the prisoner's leisure movements, his wandering, calculating gaze, which analyzed her reaction. Drakon subdued his urge to batter the savage.

"Isn't the glass a one-way glass?" Leah asked.

"It is, but he must be able to sense your presence," Aristo answered, bewildered and enraged by his audacious actions.

"How?" Leah questioned further, provoked by that malicious, conniving varmint.

"We'll question him, Leah. Don't worry," Adara persuaded but her irises were fiery, fierce and fuming.

"Everything's ready," Alcander reported.

Leah watched Ly and Adara when they placidly walked through the entrance and positioned themselves in front of Calder's designated seat.

"Calder, please have a seat. We have a few questions to ask you," Adara started.

"How have you been, Adara? Or more importantly, should I ask about Cara? How's her health?"

"She's perfectly fine," Adara communicated, completely undeterred by his distractions. "How about you, Calder? How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Calder responded. "Actually more than fine, considering how much our troops have achieved recently. Oh, it's simply amazing! The great kingdoms are falling, being infiltrated by filthy traitors, being destroyed and contaminated by corruption. I mean just look at the Bellators. They haven't had a proper ruler in years. And the people there—well, let's just say, they're having a hard time. That wouldn't be happening if they just stopped rebelling. Maybe then we wouldn't have to break them—in more ways than one. But I bet you knew that already. Poor Alma and Aramis—maybe they would've been fair rulers, but who knows?"

Ly simply smiled.

"Any names?"

"Many but I'm afraid that information is classified," Calder responded while reclining against his seat. "I'm actually not interested in talking about this anymore, but I'm extremely interested in talking about Leah. Lovely, little Leah. I never thought she would return but she did. What a remarkably stupid idea, but if she wants to play, then I have a little game for her."

Her eyes blazed with ferocity.

"But, Calder, how did you know about her? How did you know that she had returned?" Ly prompted.

"You have traitors everywhere," Calder stressed before chortling. "Everywhere."

He lied. His irises momentarily faltered.

"If there were traitors everywhere, we would've been destroyed by now," Ly voiced, "but thank you for your information, Calder. Is there anything you want to add? Any new movements? Anything?"

"Nothing at all, but tell Leah that she suits the short, chin length hair. It really brings out her features. Really brings out her anguish. Poor, lovely, little Leah. Damned, harmed, emotionally unstable. Poor, lovely, little Leah—well, not so little nor lovely anymore," Calder verbalized, smirking and staring at the glass. "Did you hear that, Leah Clearwater?"

She trembled, instinctively advancing and readying herself to pulverize the simpering, sneering creature with her bare hands, but Delia quickly restrained her.

"He's just trying to get to us," Delia spoke, forehead creasing.

"And it's working," Leah noted.

He had succeeded. But he would not win. She would.

Hardened, she glowered straight at him.

He was her prey. And she was his predator.

Let the games begin.

* * *

It was dusk.

And she could not sleep.

Discontented, she leisurely strolled down the corridors, descended the staircase, monitored her surroundings, and, after not being able to detect any wandering presences, she proceeded onward. Slowly, with her jaw slackening, she entered the training center, where the central light shone on a regal figure, who swiftly uppercutted and roundhouse kicked the dummy. Riled, she retracted but stilled when he stopped.

"I'm leaving. You can stay if you want," Drakon commented. She simply evaded his gaze.

"Have a nice night, Leah," Drakon announced without any inflection. He promptly left.

Discharging her frustration, she battered the dummy with her newest fighting moves; she practiced and practiced until her legs ached, until her hands were stained with redness, until the dummy collapsed.

"Nice technique," Acacia noted after emerging from the darkness.

"Thanks," she replied, finally fatigued. "He mentioned that I could return once the portal started working, which would happen once the war ended—with your side winning, of course. I was wondering if I could join. I want to fight. I want to go back home. I want to do something and dictate what happens in my life for once. I want to fight. And nothing will stop me."

"Nobody will stop you. I was actually wondering when you would ask," Acacia confided. "I'm also wondering when you will stop referring to Drakon as 'him' and when you'll realize that he doesn't want anything other than your friendship."

She stood rigidly.

"Cara told me not to talk about this, but I wanted to see if it was true," Acacia verbalized. "Leah, you two are wasting time and energy. Just become friends. Nothing else has to happen."

"I won't let my free will be taken away from me, and if you can't understand—"

"Leah, but at least you knew him as a child; you two were friends, practically attached at the hip. You know what he was like. He has changed. Everyone has. But there are still bits and pieces of him that are exactly the same. And at least, he doesn't expect you to change. And at least, he's not a bad person. And at least, he has a heart and is not a mass murderer who kills innocent people. And at least, you're not damned an eternity with someone you'll hate with your entire being, someone who will destroy you, someone who will always lie to you and will always bring up your spirits only to kill you on the inside with his actions and laugh and share stories with his buddies of how he used you and soiled you and stole everything from you—everything you valued and held dear to your heart but no longer belongs to you because you are completely, irrevocably, undeniably, dead on the inside. Dead. Completely dead," Acacia verbalized before collapsing emotionally. "And you can never be repaired. Ever. Because you're dead. And you can never come back to life."

"Acacia, what's wrong? Y-you said you hadn't met your mate, but you speak as if you have," Leah verbalized as she instinctively encompassed her from the side, comforting her with her mere presence.

"I haven't met him, but I know that he's our enemy. As you know, one of our founders was Alcina, who had a relationship with Daymon; their relationship started innocently, but their relationship became severed when he was affected with what she believed was poisonous jealousy. But there was a violent upsurge starting. A group of vampires and werewolves used their abilities to lure more soldiers, more victims, into their cause. And Daymon and his family were exceptionally skilled. After they were attacked, each one ran individually and was beaten until they were rescued. His family—the one he believed had died—was actually alive and kept in their headquarters; they were healed, trained and manipulated into believing in their cause. The leaders had powerful abilities—including the ability to create vivid hallucinations and to manipulate emotions," Acacia revealed.

"Daymon thought he saw Alcina sleeping with another man, even though she did not. And he became enraged further when he believed she cheated in order to be with one of her childhood friends—someone who had recently started gaining a respectable title. He struck her but she obviously beat him, and then he escaped. Only to be found acting malignantly. They captured him, tortured him for information and found out that there were two sides. In return, he found out about the lies he had been fed and willingly offered useful information. He apologized and supplicated with Alcina, who eventually forgave him and created the portal with the aid of the other founders.

"Daymon was tried but eventually pardoned for his crimes, but after several years of reconciliation, after years of the creation of the portal, there was animosity kindling. Some believed that the founders had made a mistake in pardoning Daymon; some believed that the founders should have made other, more severe choices, and so these individuals teamed together and cursed them with their combined abilities. Alcina and Daymon married, had several children together, as did the other founders, and they realized their children were being affected. The daughter Alcina and Daymon created fell in love with a traitorous, deceitful man who eventually caused her downfall and ultimately caused his own death. In the following generation, one of Erela's grandsons had an amorous relationship with a woman who betrayed him. In every single generation, the curse has alternated and has always caused chaos."

"But how can you be sure it's you?" Leah questioned.

"Oh, Leah, you've forgotten everything. You truly have," Acacia murmured, wavering. "All of us have met our mates except for Gwendolyn—Alcander's younger sister—Seraphina, Micah, and myself."

She gulped thickly.

"Maybe—"

"Gwendolyn, Seraphina and Micah have not met their mates, but we know who they are. They're not in this realm," Acacia whispered. "The elders for the Fatales gathered together to reveal the identities of our mates after we prompted them, and their faces were exposed. I refused to see mine when the insignia of our enemies flashed. It's me, Leah, but at least it wasn't the other three. They need good mates. They really do. And they are."

Acacia sniffled.

"I'm pretty sure it's Adastros, the rebellion's son."

Leah wanted to reassure her that her future mate would not be malevolent, but she simply could not, especially when a vivid illusion of a circle of children environing three powerful immortals engulfed her; the trio conjured up a dense fog, which, with every curious child who sauntered forward, cleared up and revealed lovely, youthful faces, which vanished before she could identify them.

She had been there. She had seen her sobbing. She had seen the insignia, which had engulfed them and had momentarily burned itself into her skin.

"You'll get through this," Leah consoled her. "We'll get through this together. I promise."

* * *

Hello! I would like to thank my guest reviewer, brankel1 and Ash for reviewing. And thanks to everyone who has read so far!

To Ash, I know my story is progressing slowly, but I wanted to make sure that it did so everyone could understand Leah's situation a bit better. This story isn't twenty chapters long like most. The way I planned it out and have split the chapters up there's 60+ chapters.

Next update will be in two days!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: _Aleta, Ales, and Aileen_

Her name was Aleta.

 _And she was heavenly_.

Aleta had surreal but dainty features: simmering, sterling irises, raven ringlets, a pallid skin tone, which glowed with a faint glimmer, and a hazy, hesitant smile. Accompanied by her siblings, who each possessed their own ethereal qualities, who each possessed their own unique ability, who each glided closer, she ambulated forward, standing directly in the center, where, with one fluid movement, she summoned a globe of light.

It strengthened them.

Her name was Aileen.

 _And she was celestial_.

Her features were fair; her beauty soft and subtle. She contrasted slightly with her straight, flaxen tendrils, with her wide, golden irises, which sparkled with interest, with slight dejection, with reluctant acceptance, when she observed the congregation in front of her; she flicked her wrists, sending a gentle, calming breeze in their direction.

It consoled them.

His name was Ales.

 _And he was ethereal_.

He was sinewy; he was dark. He possessed masculine features, consisting of a square-shaped jaw, defined cheekbones, broad eyebrows, and a naturally piercing, cerulean stare. With an emphatic air, he cantered forward, waving his hands back-and-forth, summoning a thick brume, which, with the aid of the gale his sister conjured, spanned across the expanse and hovered above their heads. The scintillating radiance his sister created merged with the mist, becoming denser and brighter and lovelier.

It amazed them.

But it also frightened them.

It was unknown.

It was powerful.

It was their future.

Their names were Aleta, Aileen, and Ales.

And they were divine.

"Are all of you absolutely sure that you want to see your mates and, as an extension, the parts of your lives leading to your encounter with them?" Aleta questioned; her smile slowly but surely dissipated from her lips when the four children eagerly affirmed, when they eagerly flocked in front of the pulsating splendor, when they eagerly clasped their hands together, watching, waiting, with their hearts beating rapidly, with their eyes glistening with anticipation.

"There's a reason why your parents have never encouraged any of you to take this chance—to seek your mates and seek our advice. They have never confessed their intentions with doing so and have only ever reassured you that you would meet your mates when the time was right, but you four have decided to seek your mates. Your parents didn't want to disclose this information to you, and we don't want to be the bearers of this, but seeing as you all had the imitative to demand answers and search for your soul mates, we consented without the approval of your parents; however, they have been notified. They are actually approaching this very moment," Ales divulged before bowing his head when their parents halted directly behind their children.

"Do you have any final thoughts or objections?" Aileen questioned.

"We understand your motives. We truly do. But, there are secrets that all of you are not ready to hear. You are far too young to be involved in these matters. You will meet your mates eventually. Please, reconsider this," Adara supplicated before blanching.

"We can't wait anymore. We're the final four. Everyone else has their mates. We don't. And we want to know who they are. We want to know their names—how they look like, what they like, if they're okay, or if they have any problems. We can't go back. We can only go forward," Acacia vocalized; her voice soft but steady, calm and reassuring.

She was determined.

And the resplendence intensified.

"Then go ahead."

It was her mother.

And she looked terrified.

But the glow coaxed them.

It lured them in.

And baited them.

The final four ardently accepted their futures, their destinies, their fates.

Breathlessly, Micah—with his signature raven locks, active yet inquisitive eyes, which were an exquisite shade of azure, tan complexion, dotted solely by minuscule freckles, enhanced by dimples, which currently adorned the sides of his cheeks and the very top of his cheekbones—advanced and approached and finally contacted the effulgence with his palm. Instantly, it transformed, becoming lighter and brighter until it exposed a young girl with swarthy skin and large but beautiful brown eyes, which were framed by glasses and short, dark tendrils.

"What's her name?" Micah questioned, enthralled.

"Angela Weber," Aileen responded before scrutinizing him and moving onto the rest of the enthusiastic children; she lingered on Acacia, who beamed more broadly, who bounced forward with her pupils enlarging, with her chest ascending and descending with excitement, with her hands quivering.

She surveyed her with an emotion she could not decipher. It was a mixture of forlornness and pity—but other, more complex emotions intermingled with them. And she did not have the capacity to understand. But she knew, from the sudden dread settling in her stomach, from the sudden hammering of her heart, from the exchange shared between the trio, that it was devastating.

"She's from Forks, Washington. Leah hasn't met her, but I'm sure that they'll meet and become great friends—although, it'll happen when you least expect it," Aileen verbalized.

It expanded.

And darkened.

And became black.

Pitch-black.

It was ominous.

It was menacing.

It was a bad omen.

But it finally cleared.

And revealed Micah—older, more mature, but with his lean frame convulsing with misery, with agony, with a permanent darkness.

He whimpered and wept and withered.

And his face was mutilated.

But he cried over two deformed corpses.

He cried and cried and cried.

And he recoiled from his father.

And he screamed with guilt.

And he squalled and shrieked and sniveled.

It darkened again.

It petrified them.

But they could not stop.

It transformed and exposed the face of a budding beauty with auburn tendrils, a pallid complexion, and allusive cobalt irises, which resembled the placid waves on the beach.

She was identical to Alma.

Leah blanched and heaved and gaped.

Alma quavered, and her mother pounced on her and gripped her to her chest, and her father hugged them both and trembled and teared up and towed Aramis, her soul mate, closer until they were completely engulfed and united.

It was their child.

And they were dead.

Leah sobbed.

And the resplendence strengthened.

Angela was older—tall and skinny, shy but curious, intelligent but foolishly blind. She had a boyfriend—a joker, a boy who pretended to be a man, who made sexual innuendos, who admired a pale teenager with clumsy feet, who constantly interrupted her, who consistently smiled and laughed at her theories and her likes and never fully listened to her.

But she was content.

And that was all that mattered to Micah.

Especially with his bleak future.

He would never meet her because he would leave her alone.

"We apologize. We sincerely do," Aleta added, "but we cannot stop the process until it disappears."

While shuddering severely, Gwendolyn—a young, willowy beauty with auburn ringlets, a fair complexion, a heart-shaped face, and hazel irises—approximated and converged with the luminosity, which dispersed and widened until it displayed the face of a lanky, dark-skinned boy with long, black hair and a good-natured grin.

Jacob Black.

Sarah Black's baby boy.

"Oh, what's his name?" Gwendolyn inquired softly.

"Jacob Black," Leah replied instinctively, still shaken. "He's a nice boy—a bit reckless at times, but he's really a nice boy. You two will be perfect. I just know it."

"Oh, Leah, you don't know how happy you've made me," Gwendolyn mentioned, still heedful.

And her apprehension inundated her when it grew grayer, stormier, chillier.

It thundered and clapped and roared.

Gwendolyn whitened when a slightly older version of herself appeared, when her visage contorted with affliction, when her body withered, when her limbs twisted in odd angles, when her nose bled, when her cheeks were decorated with vicious, odd-colored bruises, when her flesh burned, when her eyes leaked tears, when her previously long hair shortened—with random chunks gone missing, with her injuries expanding and dispelling unhealthy amounts of blood.

Leah shrilled.

And it laughed.

Her parents rushed forward, comforting and alleviating her, fortifying and empowering her, but ultimately receding into the unfamiliar hold of grief and despondency.

It continued.

And Jacob howled with torment.

He scratched his flesh; he groveled and bent in different angles before plunging to the ground, rising unsteadily, dropping once more, and weathering.

Finally, it stopped. But he transfigured into a huge, hulking beast with canines, with a different, more wild disposition, and with enhanced abilities.

Leah shriveled.

And Gwendolyn merely stared with pity.

It pulsated, radiating malignant energy.

He resembled an adult, but he was not one; he towered over a pretty, pallid teenager, who constantly encircled herself with her arms but who slowly, with persistent nudging from Jacob, released her tight hold and permitted him to latch himself to her. Jacob smiled, looking genuinely happy.

At least for a moment.

Because it shifted, showing his temperamental side, showing his complete lack of control, showing his aversion toward an unnatural being with ghastly skin and golden eyes, showing his passion for the frightened teenager who clung to her lover, who soothed her lover instead of comforting Jacob.

He would suffer for the wrong person.

And it hurt Gwendolyn.

Because he would always love that girl.

The girl with the mahogany ringlets.

The girl with the clumsy feet.

The girl who did not love him but loved another.

He was damned.

But Gwendolyn was damned even more.

It stopped, asking for more victims.

While shrinking and suffering, Seraphina silently slithered forward and brushed the luminescence with her fingertips, exposing the youthful, cheerful face of a boy with dark skin, light brown eyes, and black hair.

It was Seth.

Her little brother.

Her happy, go-lucky brother.

"Your mate's my brother, Sera. He's very outgoing and happy. He'll make you very happy, just as you will," Leah declared, smiling with elation at Seraphina, who beamed back.

"Do you mind?" she asked timidly.

"Of course not," Leah proclaimed with sincerity. "Now, we can really be sisters. Now, we really are family."

"Thank you, Leah," Sera whispered before rapidly facing the darkening radiance.

It suddenly exploded with light, stunning and startling them.

Seth imploded and erupted into a monstrous creature, but his disposition remained the same; he simpered with laughter, with hilarity, with genuine satisfaction. His boyish features became masculine, more pronounced and prominent, more defined and sculptured, and his body elongated and became muscular.

He resembled a man, but he acted like a child.

And she smiled.

Mesmerized, he followed a serene tenor, dived into the ocean, found a charming beauty who resembled Seraphina—but older, with a slender but curvaceous body, with lovely irises and long raven tendrils. He grinned, and she giggled.

But she ultimately screamed.

His body became limp; his eyes whitened. His skin became paler and colder and frighteningly still.

He was dead.

Her baby brother was dead!

She yipped and yowled.

And Seraphina bawled.

"I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!" she yelled.

It seethed.

"That'll never happen! I swear it! I'll never let him die, Leah. I'll never meet him! I promise!"

She had looked fourteen.

He had looked fourteen.

He was too young!

They were too young!

"I promise, Leah, that I'll never meet him. Never!"

Overwhelmed with grief, she succumbed into the darkest pits of her mind, permitting her body to decompose, permitting herself to follow her delusions, to envision beautiful hallucinations, to conjure such lovely, bewitching futures with her deceased lover—but she completely snapped out of it when she noticed corpses slowly falling from the surface with their chests severed, with their eyes monitoring the cruel world around them, with the screams of their lovers and their mothers and their fathers and their children following closely behind them.

She gathered her strength, led armies, advised the council, and grew physically stronger but her mind weakened.

Until she was assassinated.

Brutally.

Violently.

Emotionlessly.

Leah mourned and moaned and mewled before wondering forward, encompassing her alongside her family members and her woeful friends, encircling and environing and remedying her, but she continued to chant under her breath, promising—no, vowing to never, ever encounter her brother.

And she did not know what to say.

She could not speak.

She could hardly breathe.

Unnerved, Acacia squared her shoulders, clenched her jaw, gritted her teeth, fisted her hands, and rigidly, with her eyes narrowing, with perspiration accumulating on her creased forehead, she careened forward and thrust her palms on the vibrating radiance.

It ruptured, savagely casting them away but confining Acacia, who blared and bellowed and twisted and tossed.

It became lighter, calmer, quieter.

But suddenly, the dark insignia of the Cerberus—of a three headed creature with a ghastly, demonic appearance, glowing irises, salient fangs, and an incredibly muscular frame— towered above their heads, growling, seeking, preying.

It attacked Acacia, scorching her, tainting her, poisoning her.

It embedded itself into her flesh.

And tarnished her innocence.

She hollered for help.

But her parents could not do anything.

It would not let them enter.

It would not let them help.

It only let them see her agony, her misery, her demise.

Spontaneously, Leah rammed into the force, breaking through the barriers, latching herself onto Acacia, ignoring the searing pain ripping through her, and shielding her completely from the luminescence.

She consoled her, murmuring lovely reassurances—while it blazed and wordlessly threatened her.

When it flashed, she nestled herself further into her hold, refusing and rejecting the identity of her mate.

But Leah watched.

And she barely harnessed herself from weeping.

He was incredibly good-looking—youthful, with the brightest jade eyes she had seen, with the most intricate emotions speeding through them, with the widest smile, with the calmest aurora she had ever encountered; he was tall and lanky, but she detected slim muscles on his legs and arms.

And he seemed perfectly charming.

But, when he smirked, his eyes rolled to the ground, where he stomped on a bleeding warrior.

His father was the leader of rebellion.

And he laughed and simpered and applauded him.

And he took pride in his work.

Leah shuddered, embracing her even more tightly.

He matured, gaining power, gaining rapid popularity among his followers, gaining strength and agility and intelligence beyond his years; he looked even more charming, even more handsome, even more persuasive and deceitfully kind, but he instantly squashed her hopes when he single handedly extinguished the lives of their forces.

And he merely smirked and fingered the cascade of blood streaming downward.

As Acacia developed, she became stronger, wiser, lovelier, but extremely self aware; she worked as intelligence, conjuring masterpieces and managing to annihilate dark forces, but they grew and expanded and infiltrated their fortifications.

Quickly, she exterminated their assailants, protected her people as well as she could until she saw him, until he sauntered forward, until he cockily analyzed her and, with his eyes meeting hers, quickly snapped his victim's neck—right in front of her, and she tried to attack him, tried to kill him, but she could not.

Her body would not let her.

Her instincts would not let her.

Her heart would not let her.

And he knew.

But he did not care.

He simply walked forward and smeared the blood of the innocent across her cheekbones.

And he admired his work.

And defiled her further.

He ensnared her, watching as she unwillingly slumped against him, as she unwillingly submitted herself to him, to his forces, to his cause.

Because her body commanded it.

Because her instincts dictated it.

Because her heart was weak.

Because she was weak.

And he destroyed her.

Emotionally.

Spiritually.

For the rest of her life.

For the rest of eternity.

And their forces died.

And they ultimately died.

Every single one of them.

Slowly.

Painfully.

But surely.

"You'll get through this," Leah vocalized, stabilizing her. "We'll get through this together. I promise."

The luminosity dimmed before it ignited.

Her face appeared.

And her loved ones enveloped her.

Closely.

Sorrowfully.

Tenderly.

And they apologized and apologized and apologized until she silenced them.

Suddenly, she vanished.

Practically evaporated.

But she materialized in front of her parents, in front of her elders, in front of a ritual.

She screamed and supplicated, but her pleas were not met.

And she forgot them.

She forgot her second family.

She grew and made friends and excelled at everything.

While Drakon suffered.

While he barely mustered his strength.

While he deteriorated emotionally.

Spiritually.

But she blossomed.

And formed a relationship with a clumsy, pubescent boy.

His name was Sam.

Samuel Uley.

While he hardened.

While he longed for her return.

Hoping.

Pleading.

Praying.

Every single day.

While Sam became her sweetheart.

And he loved her.

Until he transformed into a big, bulky monster, who abandoned her, who admired her cousin, who stared at her with pity and prompted her into turning into a horrific creature with resentment embedded into her heart.

She would be lonely, cast to the side, trapped and ruined.

Leah stilled.

It finally died.

And they all huddled together, comforting and consoling one another, grieving momentarily but eventually growing determined.

She sought Drakon, who enveloped her and rested his chin on the very top of her head.

She would not forget him.

She simply would not.

It would not happen.

It would not.

"Thank you for showing this to us," Acacia whispered tearfully. "At least, now we know that we have to prepare ourselves for the future."

"And change our destinies," Micah added.

The trio grimaced.

For destiny could not be changed.

* * *

Destiny had been completed for her.

She had forgotten them.

Every single one of them.

And they had been destroyed emotionally.

And he had been hurt severely while she had thrived.

She wordlessly apologized.

Overwhelmed, she closely held onto Acacia.

And she stared at her until her tear tracks faded.

She consoled her, even when her muscles compacted, even when her arms ached, her eyes burned, her hands cramped, and her legs constricted from the awkwardness of her position.

When she awakened, she smiled slightly.

But it ultimately receded.

"Thank you," she whispered, "but, Leah, what's wrong? You look sad."

"I'm so sorry for forgetting everyone," Leah apologized with her heart throbbing. "And I'm so sorry for everything that's happened. I-I—"

"You were young, Leah, and everything that happened to you before you left might have traumatized you. We should be apologizing for what happened, not you," Acacia persuaded, tranquilizing her. "But what happened? You seem different, more like—"

"More like what?" Leah prompted.

"More like the Leah I used to know. More soft," she replied without hesitating. "So what happened?"

"I remember what happened that day. Every little detail," Leah responded, perturbed. "D-did it all happen?"

"Some of it," Acacia answered with sorrow.

"And some of it, you have the answers."

She eyed the approaching figure with subdued surprise; she slunk forward, gliding and sliding across the expanse until she stood directly in front of her and embraced her.

"It's been such a long time, Leah."

"Oh, Gwendolyn, it has been," she instinctively responded.

Gwendolyn had flourished into a slender beauty with auburn tresses, which tumbled past her waist and tangled at the ends, a fair complexion completely devoid of any imperfections, a heart-shaped face, and wide, hazel eyes.

"You remember—at least a bit," Gwendolyn stated before grimacing.

"We'll tell you what happened after you left," Acacia mentioned while gripping her hands.

"We'll start with Micah. H-he's helping his parents with the affairs of the kingdom, but he has a child," Gwendolyn divulged with her voice cracking slightly.

"So do you remember what Aramis was?"

Leah shook her head.

"He was a Bellator. His parents were in charge of the kingdom, and Alma's parents were so close to them that they lived together. We got struck again, and his parents died. Alma's parents took care of everything—the kingdom, the kids, everything. But then they got captured, tortured and k-killed. By then, he was old enough to take over. He didn't want to at first, but everyone really liked him and convinced him to do it. Aramis and Alma were really close to us, but especially with Micah's dad and mom. Everything was fine for a while. They got married, and Alma gave birth to Angelique. Then, on Micah's birthday, they captured the two and Micah—"

"But how?"

"They were outside, talking and laughing; they wanted to show him what they made for him. It wasn't too far out, but they hadn't noticed that there weren't any guards around. Everything was quiet. They got captured and tortured, and Micah saw them get murdered in front of him. They sacrificed themselves for him, and he had the perpetrators found and killed after they ran away," Acacia elaborated, growing soft-spoken. "He had been named Angelique's godfather, and ever since he was sixteen, he's been taking care of her. She's three now, and he's nineteen."

"And the Bellators?"

"They've been taken over. When we tried to do something—well, it was too late. And we've tried but—"

Acacia sighed, frustrated.

"And he's never contacted Angela. Our world is too chaotic—"

"And she has a boyfriend," Leah added before sighing. "They've visited the beach in La Push, and I've seen them holding hands."

"And, exactly one year after you left, I was in the gardens of our home, and I was knocked unconscious. It was horrible to say the least," Gwendolyn vocalized with her hands shaking, with her eyes gathering moisture, with her heart beating faster and more erratic. "And, Jacob—well, he's in love with another. I can just feel it. Tell me, Leah, does he?"

She hesitated, but Gwendolyn waved her forward.

"He'll get over it soon," Leah uttered.

"If he's happy, then I'm happy," Gwendolyn mentioned. "Is he?"

"Truthfully, he's not," Leah clarified.

"He was 'in love' with his childhood friend, Bella, but she ended up choosing her bloodsucker boyfriend, Edward," she snarled before shaking her head and sighing. "Got married to him, too. Haven't heard much about them. We helped them with their problems when she was alive, but she's probably a bloodsucker now, and he kinda moved on now. He's the alpha. Plus, I'm sure that he'll be completely over her when you—

"I'll keep my distance," Gwendolyn whispered. "That's always been my plan. It's too dangerous, and he'll probably be much happier in his realm than here."

"But, he's a shapeshifter; he can defend himself. He can be happy here," Leah said, "especially since he'll have you here. He won't be confused and angry anymore."

"Leah, I'm sorry for saying this but you're here and you're definitely not happy here. And you resent Drakon, even though he didn't bring you here. And I can't do something that I know will just hurt him or make him resent me. I couldn't bare that," Gwendolyn clarified before twiddling her thumbs and snapping her head upwards. "Oh, Leah, that was completely insensitive!"

"No, it's the truth," Leah interjected, pacifying her. "I do resent him. I probably shouldn't, but I do. And I can't control it. I feel bad, especially after everything that I've witnessed, but I can't stop it. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"We understand. He understands," Acacia commented.

"And that would lead us to Seraphina, who, as you probably know, never actually contacted Seth. She never wanted to take any risks. How's your brother?" Gwendolyn questioned while wringing her wrists.

"He's a shifter, and he really loves his life. He hasn't met his imprint, and he doesn't think of anyone romantically, but he has high hopes that one day he'll meet her," Leah divulged.

"But Sera's terrified of ever meeting him," Acacia mentioned.

"Meaning that they'll never meet," Gwendolyn disclosed.

She respired shallowly, unnerved by the complexity of their situation.

"And poor Alistair and Eva," Gwendolyn muttered.

"Why?"

"Well, their mates, but they don't seem like it," Acacia divulged. "Something terrible happened to Eva—Micah's sister—and she can't have a relationship with Alistair. They're friends, but it's not the same. Everyone outside of our circle doesn't know that they're mates."

"What happened?"

"Well, she can't feel anymore. She can feel small emotions or traces of stronger ones, but she doesn't feel them like we do anymore. After she was attacked, she didn't cry—didn't feel any sadness or anything. She goes through the motions sometimes, but she can't feel those emotions clearly," Acacia explained. "She didn't want to get involved with Alistair either. She said he would be used for leverage. But I think she does it to protect him from her, since she can't feel what she used to. No matter how hard she tries, she can't feel it."

"Has it been working?"

"Pretty okay, considering he hasn't been used for leverage yet—and there's been plenty of opportunity for it to happen," Gwendolyn stated before sighing. "But obviously they're both risking their happiness. She refuses to spend too much time with him, and he accepts it, but you can just tell."

"How come no one's ever noticed?"

"Secrecy. Anyone who knows has made a pact. And it doesn't look like they're mates. If anything, it looks like he's in love with her. It doesn't look like they're mates or anything."

"Sounds pretty complicated," Leah commented, frowning.

"And his buddies—the three musketeers we call them, since they're always together in their missions—don't even know who their mates are."

"Radley and Damien—you've probably heard of them," Acacia suggested.

"Yeah."

"Okay, well, they weren't there that day. Aleta and her siblings disappeared right after that, especially since the other side was hunting them down."

"They haven't been seen since," Gwendolyn added.

"Where do you think they are?"

"We don't know for sure."

"But I'm sure you have theories," Leah pointed out.

"Well, they're obviously hiding, and no one's been able to find them. But everyone tried looking for them here. No one ever tried looking for them in the other realm," Acacia proclaimed as she leaned back.

"Makes sense."

"Yeah, it does," Gwendolyn agreed before exhaling sharply.

"Life has been hard but everything will change soon," Acacia stated. "I have faith."

"D-do any of you know how I came here?" Leah questioned hesitantly. "Do you know anything? Anything at all?"

"Truthfully, we don't," Acacia answered. "We didn't have the power to return you to our lands. Whatever bonded you in your realm was extremely powerful. And the only people who could help went missing. Only Aleta and her siblings could have done something."

While breathing profusely, she unconsciously ascended, paced around the perimeter of the training center, controlled her breathing, massaged her throbbing temples, and counted. Abruptly, she halted, stiffened, but ultimately relaxed when Artemisia traveled through the entrance.

"What's wrong?" Gwendolyn interrogated before rising and speeding forward.

"Plutus has been such a pain in the—never mind, but he's a pain nonetheless," Artemisia complained, sweating slightly. "I've even interrogating him for hours, and he has the nerve to—"

But she paused and smacked her lips together.

"Never mind, he's not going to talk anytime soon, but hopefully Calder will. Although if I remember correctly, he's as stubborn as a bull and has a tongue like a snake. Ruddy tongue," she mumbled, jaw set harshly. "Anyway, we're starting his interrogating at noon. Alistair's prepping him right now."

"He's been working too hard."

"Yeah, well, you know," Artemisia faltered before clearing her throat. "Eva's not here, and he's worried. It's understandable."

"And it's understandable that he needs a break," Acacia scolded.

"Don't tell me. Tell him."

"I have, but you know how he is," Acacia rendered. "And you should really take a break. Maybe a nap. You can't stay awake all night and expect to stay awake all day."

"I'll be fine," Artemisia dismissed. "Plus, if you're going to start scolding people for not sleeping enough, you have to start with yourself. Heaven knows you've been working day-and-night with hardly any breaks."

Acacia pursed her lips and crossed her arms, but she ultimately smirked and dipped her head.

"Nice comeback."

"Thanks. I've learned from the best," Artemisia stated pridefully before swiveling and monitoring her from head-to-toe. As she riveted her, she noticed her sagging shoulders, her scrunched nose, and the heavy, hesitant breaths billowing from her mouth. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Leah tensed.

"Or your past."

She wordlessly affirmed, watching as she stiffened but encompassed her.

"I'm sorry if you saw something you didn't want to see," Artemisia apologized. "Your life hasn't been the easiest."

"And neither has yours or anyone else's," Leah pointed out.

"But we were born into this," Artemisia retaliated with resignation.

"And it seems like I was, too," Leah proclaimed.

Artemisia merely smiled with her lips tweaking to the sides and her eyes sparkling with faith.

"Good morning," Nicodemus rehearsed before bounding forward with Delia, who encircled every single one of them. She quickly surveyed her appearance, grimaced, opened her mouth, but ultimately silenced her thoughts after perceiving the transformation in her behavior.

Speedily, the pack of trainees flocked their leaders, who, after centering themselves, promptly scrutinized their faces.

"After practice, you're all welcome to witness the interrogation session. However, for now, you'll train in partners, and we'll work personally with a few of you," Adara recited before dismissing them.

"Leah, do you want to partner up?" Gwendolyn offered timidly.

Leah consented before repressing her instinctual frustration from surging forward; she breathed in, then out, and repeated until she circulated her with a clear, level head and acute awareness. With her fists shielding her face, she stepped forward, mimicked Gwendolyn's steadiness and prudence, and, with impressive speed, front kicked her. But Gwendolyn quickly descended and swept her feet from underneath her, causing her to topple over. Without missing the opportunity, Gwendolyn pinned her down, securing her arms over her head and managing to restrain her legs with her knees. Immobilized, she thrashed against her hold, unwillingly permitting her anger to gain strength and power; it intensified, fortified and enkindled by her roaring instincts.

Calm down and breathe.

Calm down.

Breathe.

And everything will be alright.

Respiring normally, she jutted her knee upward, stretched the other, and knocked her from her right leg, which, when it became liberated, rapidly disentangled her other knee from her left leg. She rose, following her actions. Gwendolyn rushed forward and ducked before gaining speed and side kicking her. Winded but determined, she staggered back but quickly regained her composure. She hastened forward, impelling her backward and forcing her to backtrack, especially when she began punching and punting her. When she became distracted, she roundhouse kicked her in the stomach and aimed for a higher kick, but she deflected it and retaliated with far more expertise.

Gwendolyn cornered her, but she counter-attacked her. Deftly, she crescent kicked her, smacking her left shoulder but ultimately causing her to speed forward and clamp her hands onto her shoulders. In one swift movement, she incapacitated her. Leah groaned with disappointment, but, when she freed herself, she encountered complete silence.

"Leah, that was remarkable!" Adara exclaimed.

Leah restrained herself from blushing, but she could barely stop herself. And she did not want to. She was proud. They were proud.

"Thank you," Leah whispered, overwhelmed. "Thank you."

"You are most certainly welcome," Adara addressed before returning to her personal training with Admes.

"You did a fantastic job, Leah," Gwendolyn complimented. "You only started hand-to-hand combat yesterday, and you're already a natural at it, just like we all knew you would be."

"Excellent progress, Leah," Ly commented. "And Gwendolyn, I noticed that you've worked more on your offensive attacks; you have made great progress, but I recommend trying to end the fight as quickly as you can. Always try to hit for the windpipe, the pressure points, or try to hold your opponent in a choke hold. Actually, we can practice that now. The two of you can.

"You can practice the rear chokehold on these dummies. First, apply your left arm around the dummy. Make sure his windpipe is in the crook of your arm. Your bicep and your forearm must be on the side of his neck. With your right arm behind his neck, grab your left shoulder and reach with your left arm toward your right arm's bicep. Now, squeeze tightly," Ly commanded before dipping his head and clapping.

"The next chokehold is called the front chokehold, which is a better option if you're facing your opponent. Reach across with your right hand and grab the left corner of his collar, but make sure you don't grab your opponent personally. This gives you a greater advantage. Then, reach with your left hand toward your opponent's collar, but the right side of their collar. Your arms should be crossed in front of his throat. Tightly grip his collar and rotate your hands inward. Twist the opposite sides and squeeze," Ly explained while demonstrating and then surveying their technique.

"Good, good. I think you two have mastered this," Ly stated with appreciation. "I—"

"Ly, Adara, we've received new information and demands from Calder," Alistair reported.

"Training has ended. If any of you want to come, you can," Ly rehearsed before traversing the expanse of the training center and ushering them towards their destination.

While jeering, he strolled forward, rolling back his shoulders, tantalizing her, and staring directly at her; he smirked directly at her, directly in front of her, which unnerved and angered her.

Deliberately, Seraphina distracted her, reminding her of her complex situation with her brother, of her determination, of her sorrows and trepidations. Distressed by the nightmare she lived in, she squeezed her hands; she naturally encircled her, environing her completely and wordlessly thanking her for her commitment, for her sacrifices, but also apologizing for everything horrid that had happened.

And Seraphina simply smiled.

Her smile wobbled but ultimately strengthened.

From her peripheral vision, Calder paraded forward before shifting his complete attention on Seraphina. Ffrustrated, she positioned herself directly in front of Seraphina and glowered at the prisoner. She scrutinized his deliberate movements, consisting of his analytical gaze, of his unnerving behavior, of his simpering, smirking nature.

"Drakon, go inside and interrogate him," Adara ordered while inspecting the calmness of his demeanor and the emotionless expression on his face.

"I wondered when you would finally come," Calder delivered before seating himself. "How's little Leah? And your adorable sister?"

"Both are fine," Drakon answered without hesitating.

"Your sister's debilitating health and your mate's hatred towards you is considered to be fine nowadays? I really had no idea. I've been looking at life all wrong," Calder taunted.

He didn't even flinch.

He didn't even remark.

"Calder, you said that you had information you wanted to share. What is it?" Drakon inquired placidly.

"I do have something to say," Calder confirmed, "but it might not be to your liking."

"Go on," Drakon prompted.

"How is it possible for your mate to hate you? Especially since you're considered to be 'on the good side?'" Calder interrogated sardonically. "And don't avoid the question. You know you want to talk about it, especially since everyone stares at you with pity, especially since your family supports her more than you, especially since—"

"Calder, do you really want to listen to me?" Drakon inquired while inclining forward. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Calder affirmed. "We were once friends, don't you remember? As your former friend, I want to catch up and hear about everything I've missed."

"Well, let me see. After you decided to leave, we looked for you everywhere until we realized that you committed various crimes and wanted to rejoin your father's cause. Understandable really. I was around twelve when you left. Three years had passed since the incident. Everything was shaky. A bit rough at times. But you knew that," Drakon started.

"Certain horrendous events occurred. But you know that. You took part of them. You planned them. You killed them. All of them. And it's understandable really. You came from a murderer who deserved his sentence—who deserved death. And his killer—well, let me just say that the killer's really close to you. Extremely close. You think we killed him. You think we could've killed him, but we didn't. Someone close to you did it," Drakon asserted, simply glancing at him when he enclosed his fists and clenched them further.

"We didn't kill him, but we'll leave that up to you. You can judge your father's death and make assumptions about the killer, but until then, you can't get your revenge, which is what you've been seeking for this entire time. Well, time moved on. I got older. Other events happened. I was kidnapped but you know that. You were there. You stared. But I got out and unfortunately some of your buddies could not. They died. Clearly very ironic. I have your amazing artwork on my body. It reminds me of such beautiful times," he continued, watching when his veins jutted from his temples.

"But the main reason why you're so interested about my relationship with Leah is because yours failed. And because of a great reason, too. She hated you with an intense passion. You refused to help her, even when she was tortured, even when she screamed for mercy, even when they put her life on the line. She hated you even more. Until it happened. Until you killed her. How do you feel, Calder? Knowing that your mate died at your hands? Knowing that you could've saved her? Knowing that your so-called friends and your amazing cause and your strong, fearless leader manipulate and betray you every chance they have?" Drakon verbalized without recoiling when Calder suddenly rose but, instead of growling or attacking him, he simply stared back at him with his smirk widening.

He applauded him.

"Fantastic story telling. I really enjoyed it, but you never answered my question. How is it that little Leah denies you?" Calder repeated before twisting his torso in her direction. "She's such a beauty. An angry, vindictive beauty—but she's one nonetheless. Very bitter. Must've had a misfortunate life in her realm, or simply a misfortunate relationship. How does it feel—to be rejected, to be unloved, to be so good and yet have no one that really appreciates it or comforts you? At least with me, my mate was useless—a distraction. She deserved her fate. You know, you should do the same. Getting rid of her will make you stronger, just as it has made me stronger."

"Stronger and yet you were captured," Drakon mentioned while tilting his head to the side.

"Captured? Whatever you say, dearest Drakon," he disclosed. "Now, greet little Leah and the rest of them for me. Especially Acacia. Tell her that her time is coming. And that I cannot wait for the day she leads us and brings you to your demise."

"How—"

"How do I know? Well, you're just going to have to find out," Calder rendered.

He exited and immediately encircled Acacia, who had rapidly stilled, who had frozen up and stood rigidly; she slowly environed him and trembled in his steady arms. While whispering sweet reassurances, he gradually soothed her. Tucking her beneath his chin, he successfully consoled her and hardened her resolves. After comforting her, he briefly regarded her before ducking his head.

She simply swallowed.

"He's not receiving any information from our forces, and there are absolutely no traitors in this kingdom, so he's receiving his information from another source," Delia declared. "But who's the source?"

"How can you be so sure?" Leah asked.

"Because everyone who enters is inspected by myself and my family," Adara proclaimed. "We have the gift of perception; we can tell when someone is being truthful or whenever someone is lying."

"And he was lying," Ly confirmed.

"But we're wondering how he received his information, considering that only a limited amount of people know, and all of us are in this kingdom," Aristo added. "We never told anyone else this information.

"If he knows, then his superiors know," Acacia murmured.

Meaning that her mate would know.

Even if she did not his identity, he knew hers.

And he would find her.

And he would destroy her.

And he would kill them.

All of them.

"Don't worry," Artemisia uttered.

"Because we'll get through this together, I promise. We promise," Leah amended before wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

"We will, Acacia. We're all a family. Don't worry," Admes remarked.

And the pressure that had been previously hovering above their shoulders momentarily dissipated.

Everything would be alright.

Absolutely everything.

But the beast ruined it.

He cackled with dark laughter—without any humor, just with sarcasm, with darkness, with maliciousness.

When she studied him, she caught a glimpse of misery, but it promptly vanished.

He had been affected.

He was cracking.

And he would wither and weather into nothing.

She would make sure of it.

After all, he was her prey—and she was his predator.

* * *

Hi! Thank you rakikel for reviewing! The bullying will be explained soon :) And yes, predestined couples are really idealistic-I feel like everyone just gets together because they have to, which is really why Leah tries resisting but at the same time doesn't do much. In a way, it's like losing your independence, and it can be weakening depending on who is your mate-like in Acacia's case or Calder's case. I basically paired a lot of couples together and made them seem very idealistic, but then I put in a few that really go against the idealistic version-or at least I hope :) Oh, and I was completely stuck with how to begin the sequel for this, and your comment definitely gave me some good ideas about predestined couples, so thanks so much! I'm really excited about that now!

I understand if this chapter was frustrating and seems like it shows too much about what will happen in the future, especially the beginning, but I promise, promise, promise that I have a few tricks and twists up my sleeves.

Thank you to everyone who has read so far! Constructive criticism is welcomed!

Next chapter will be shorter, but I hope everyone will like the advancement in the next chapter!

The next update will be in two days!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: _Darling_

Darkness was approaching.

And she treasured the gracefulness of the two spinning ballerinas in front of her.

She esteemed their extended necks, their fully stretched legs, their pointed toes, and their elongated bodies.

Leah cherished their beauty and grace, their elegance and serenity.

They were such beautiful, youthful girls with their charming personalities, their positive essences, their constant determination to radiate happiness and raise the spirits of others.

Leah beamed, delighted by their performance.

"You two are simply lovely," Leah commented before embracing them.

"Adara teaches us—but our mommy and our other friends help, too," Demetria divulged.

"Where's your mommy?" Leah asked.

"Helping daddy. They're really busy," Cyrena answered with her voice wavering and faltering.

"Why are—"

"It's not safe anymore," Cyrena responded with her voice cracking but regaining strength. "Mommy and daddy told us to come here. It's safer here. Nico brought us with Delia."

"Everyone's fighting back home, and those that aren't are like us: children, or sick, or hurt or pregnant—so, they can't fight," Demetria added. "Nico was supposed to stay, but—well, we needed him."

"And I'm happy," Cyrena mentioned with her eyes downcast. "He makes sure we're safe. Everyone does. And he walks with me when I sleep walk. Everyone does. I love him, and I love everyone, too. But he's my brother. And I want him to be safe."

"I understand," Leah uttered while stooping down to their level. "I have a younger brother. His name is Seth. And he reminds me of you two. I always want him to be safe. Always. And I'm so glad he is."

Demetria grinned, while Cyrena smiled softly.

"We really love you, Leah, and we don't want you to get hurt," Demetria started.

"Please, _please_ , be careful," Cyrena remarked.

"I will be," Leah responded before hugging them.

"And everyone will try their best to keep you safe because you're a part of our family. It's a bit chaotic and loud, but it's family, and we all love each other," Demetria added while nestling her head into the crook of her neck.

"Girls, it's bedtime," Nicodemus announced after emerging from the entrance and gathering his sisters.

"Goodnight, Leah," Nicodemus called, grinning.

"Goodnight," she recited before stretching.

She saw younger versions of her friends waltzing around her, encouraging her to participate, and eventually prompting her to frolic beside them and demonstrate a wobbly relevé. Leah practice twice more before performing it with tranquility. With her muscles aching slightly, she demonstrated a weak arabesque, which nearly toppled her over, but she gained experience with every mistake. When she finally performed a strong arabesque, her chest ascended and descended erratically.

When she turned, Adara praised her. Started, Leah backtracked but ultimately smiled at her childhood teacher.

"You've grown up beautifully," Adara proclaimed.

"I've grown up but not beautifully," Leah retaliated without any hardness, without any edge, but only with exhaustion.

"I disagree. Everything that you've gone through in the last few years have shaped you into the person you are now. And the person who I see now is a beautiful person—someone who, despite her trials, has risen from the ashes and has never let anything destroy her; you are someone who loves your family deeply, who loves very easily and loves even those who perhaps don't even deserve your love; you are someone who protects others, who tried to make them happy and see the light even though you don't see it; you are someone who fights for what she believes in, who is determined to receive what you know you deserve, and you are someone who is not afraid," Adara declared, warming her.

"But I am afraid," Leah whispered.

"Afraid?" Adara asked while smoothing her hair.

"I am—"

Abruptly, shrill shrieks sounded, followed by the rapid footsteps of their soldiers.

"I want to help!" Leah shouted over the uproar.

"Alright but know your limits. Don't push yourself! If you can't fight, leave," Adara commanded.

Leah confirmed.

* * *

It was chaotic.

Corpses layered the ground.

A cascade of blood flowed downward.

And the devilish monsters proceeded onward, advancing and separating individuals from their forces.

She nearly joined until she saw an unfamiliar leader. Discreetly, he commanded four of his specialized soldiers to disengage themselves from the central battle and journey to the heart of the Dark Forest.

They were going to harm the Tree of Life.

Silently, she followed.

Stealthily, she hastened toward the group, eluded their eyesight by ducking and slinking into the shadows. When they stopped in the center and encompassed the Tree of Life, she sprinted forward and ambushed the first immortal she saw. Using her advantage to the fullest, she ensnared him in a rear chokehold, squeezing and squeezing until he plummeted to the ground, completely unconscious.

Adrenaline pumped through her body, empowering her, strengthening her, enlivening her. Speedily, when two out of the remaining three soldiers catapulted themselves, she evaded their holds and rapidly roundhouse kicked one from behind, knocking him to the ground.

To prevent them from inundating her, she very deliberately stomped on his neck twice, causing him to splutter. In one swift movement, she further weakened him by battering him, by clobbering him, by tramping and punching him viciously.

With his salient teeth bared, with his eyes narrowing, with his muscles constricting, his comrade lunged, permitting her to speed forward and, with agility, slid behind him. In one second, she assaulted him from behind by impinging his reassure points and rendering him incapable of battle. Zooming past them, she swept forward and walloped the final one, who had been expecting her blow and smirked.

In a sly, stealthy manner, Leah disengaged slightly when her animalistic side physically manifested itself in her. As she rotated, her muscles coiled and looped further; she crouched lowly, glowering unwaveringly at the leering varmint. Leah lunged.

Without haste, her opponent slid forward with his pupils dilating, with his irises flaring with bloodlust. When she sought his pressure points, he rapidly retreated. In two swift movements, she punched her adversary, who tottered but remained upright. Quickly, she clamped her hands over his shoulders, dislocated them, and she impinged his weakest points; she perforated his flesh with her serrated teeth, reveling on the convulsions flowing through his deteriorating body, relishing fully on the misery distorting his facial facials, and embedding her mark onto his flesh as a reminder of his failure.

When he propelled himself forward with the intention of maiming her, she lacerated him with animosity; she clawed through his chest, but he startled her when he rose without any problem.

He stormed forward, challenging her with his blazing, blood lusting gaze. Leah accepted. He barraged her with carefully calculated movements, which very narrowly missed her. Smirking, he advanced and uppercutted her twice; he proceeded to strike her, but, after harnessing her own fury, she besieged her opponent with high kicks. Her rival faltered—and she took complete advantage of it.

Instantly, she tackled her contender and clouted the side of his head, which resulted in him deflating; she attacked him until he could no longer rise. Or at least, she thought. When she rose, he gathered all the strength he possessed and, once he concentrated entirely on her strengths and weaknesses, he clobbered Leah. Using his advantage, he punctured her flesh; he masticated and marked her skin with his salient fangs. She wailed with agony. Bordering on delirious, she blared and weathered. Suddenly, the pressure on her body disappeared.

Drakon slew his overconfident opponent from behind, annihilating him with calculated swiftness. When he attempted to regenerate, he ensnared him by the throat, which he promptly snapped.

"Darling, darling, you have to stay awake," he demanded. "Darling, listen to me. Please, darling."

She instantly closed her fluttering eyelids when a blinding radiance manifested itself over the vicinity. Cautiously, she blearily glanced at the effulgence, which moved over the expanse, extinguished the lives of their enemies, and advanced until it collected the lives of the army. Pacified, she reposed.

Once she resurfaced, she cautiously tilted her head to the side, where he stood, with his throat clogged, with his features hard and sharp with self-hatred, self-disappointment, and sorrow. But his features gradually softened. And his cobalt irises—although they continued to be overshadowed by remorse, clouded with apology, and fogged with permanent darkness—softened to the point where his eyes became clearer—brighter.

Very warily, he moved forward.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized sincerely, "for treating you badly, for forgetting you, for being so rude. I'm really sorry."

"It's fine," he amended. "I understand."

"No, you truly don't know the full extent of what happened to me, of why I'm the way I am, but—"

"You're not ready, and I understand," he stated, alleviating her. "I truly understand, Leah. I don't want to pressure you into telling me your personal life. When you're ready, then I'll know. Please, don't feel pressured to tell me anything."

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling contented. "And thank you for helping me—for saving me. I really am sorry that I can't give you what you want, what is expected of me, but I can offer you my friendship, especially after everything that we've been through together."

"Of course," he said, smiling broadly. "All I want is your friendship."

"So friends?" Leah questioned nervously.

"Friends," he declared, grinning.

She chuckled weakly, even though her stomach ached and groaned from overexertion.

"I just have one request, which you can deny if you wish to do so," Drakon started, chucklingnervously. "Can I call you darling again? I completely understand if you don't—"

"It's fine," Leah amended with sincerity. "It's completely fine. We're friends after all, aren't we?"

And honestly darling sounded absolutely lovely anyway.

"We are," he confirmed, growing soft-spoken.

* * *

I hope everyone has had a good day so far! Thank you all for reading!

Thank you to my guest reviewer! Your comment made me smile so much!

The next update will be in two days!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: _Leila_

Leah smiled breathlessly when she saw Carabelle glissading towards her and tugging along Alcander; he grinned broadly and bounded after her.

"You look fantastic," Leah whispered with awe.

"Thank you," Carabelle responded before moving forward and beaming more broadly. "But we all know that I wouldn't be okay without your help, so thanks, Leah."

Spontaneously, she rushed forward with the intention of embracing her, but she faltered and slowly receded. Instinctively, Leah towed her forward before hugging her. Sighing, she reveled in the sudden surge of mirth and warmth spreading throughout her form, in the comfort and serenity she felt—in the unfamiliar sense of completeness settling over her. When she parted, she smiled.

"What happened exactly?" Leah questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"We don't really know. Somehow, you helped me, and I managed to radiate my gift through the Tree of Life. But whatever happened, I'm glad or else I'd be six feet under right now."

"Cara—"

"Come on, Alcander. You know I couldn't handle much more. Everyone knows that," she dismissed. "But maybe, your abilities helped me somehow. Again, I'm not sure, but—"

"Abilities?" Leah repeated, puzzled. "I don't have any abilities other than shifting."

"Oh, I thought you knew—or remembered," Carabelle murmured, perturbed. "You have enhanced abilities. You can run faster, see better, listen farther than others. All of your five senses are enhanced. Even as a human, you had certain qualities that made you resemble one of us. It must be heightened now."

It made complete sense.

She now understood why she was the fastest shifter in her pack.

"Well, I'm glad my abilities helped you somehow," Leah verbalized, lightening the atmosphere.

"Oh, Leah, you've recovered fantastically!" Delia exclaimed as she bustled into her personal wing and quickly scanned over the areas where her injuries had previously been.

"Thank you, Delia," Leah rehearsed with her lips widening.

She stopped abruptly. Her eyes softened dramatically, and her hands trembled; her knees nearly buckled, while her cheeks stretched and her body slackened.

"You're welcome, Leah," she recited before clearing her throat. "I'm just glad that you're feeling better."

She did feel better.

She felt calmer—lighter.

The darkness that had been circulating and poisoning her heart temporarily weakened and retreated.

She could finally breathe.

"We were wondering if you wanted to come to Calder's interrogation," Alcander offered.

"Sure," Leah responded before glancing at Drakon, who raised his eyebrows and tipped his head forward. "From what I noticed, he's not fazed by us. Well, he wasn't until you mentioned his mate."

"His mate died," Delia stated with her forehead creasing and her eyes dimming.

"Her name was Leila. She was extremely compassionate and caring. Unfortunately, she had seen her family murdered in front of her, which led to her fleeing and seeking refuge here. We became friends. We trained together. And she excelled," Carabelle vocalized before hesitating.

"She rose her rank and enlisted herself officially into the army at sixteen. And she excelled. She was intelligent, quick, cunning, protective, and devoted to helping war victims. Unfortunately, in one of the outings, her group was ambushed and tortured for information. She was tortured. In one of the sessions, they decided to test how much pain she could handle, and so they called Calder. He met her. But she hated him with great passion. He disgusted her. Calder could tell that she loathed him, and he loathed her for making him weak. He tried to torture her, but he couldn't. His ability didn't work on her," Drakon divulged; his eyes were hazy, unmoving, and blinded by misery.

"They tortured her in other ways. He only watched. She would scream for them to stop, for them to have some mercy, for them to have some humanity, but they never stopped. And he watched. Our forces were approaching, so they killed her. And he watched. He watched when it happened. He could've done something, anything, to help her, but he chose not to. He killed her. Calder killed her," Drakon whispered sorrowfully before wiping his face with his palms and sighing shakily.

"That's horrible," Leah vocalized, "but how do—"

"I was in her group. I was supposed to protect her—to protect them—but I couldn't do my job correctly. Instead, I watched as they tortured her," Drakon declared while grimacing and exhaling profoundly.

She did not know how to respond.

She could barely hear over her erratic heartbeat.

She could barely swallow.

But somehow, she grabbed his hands from his lap and squeezed them tightly. Silently, he expressed his gratitude and gradually detangled himself from her, causing her to dip her head and respire steadily; she calmed her raving sentiments, her animalistic side, which demanded to maim those who had harmed him, who had harmed innocent citizens and soldiers, who had taken lives without remorse.

"The interrogation is starting," Alcander uttered.

Calder would die.

She would make sure of it.

After accepting Drakon's hand, she rose and stalked beside him with her hands dangling at her sides and her jaw clenching. When she surveyed her companions, she noticed that their backs were straight, their shoulders were rolled back, and their faces were completely expressionless.

After purposefully plodding through the corridors, she briefly patrolled the public headquarters and entered the familiar private quarter that hosted the monstrous beast. Sensing her presence, his head instantly snapped in her direction. He whistled lowly, infuriating her.

"Cara, are you ready?" Adara asked.

Squaring her shoulders, she trudged through the entrance of the interrogation room and seated herself in front of Calder. He leered and smirked. His eyes scanned over the healthy glow on her cheeks, the lively glisten in her irises, the strength in her body. Intrigued, he leaned forward but not before shooting a glance to the one-way glass, where he sought the presence of her mate; he studied him, fully bewildering and perturbing him with his calculating but inquisitive stare.

"Healthy once more," Calder commented. "Alcander must be happy. Everyone must be happy."

"They are," Carabelle disclosed. "So, Calder, what have you been thinking about recently?"

"Just plotting your demise," he responded pleasantly while situating himself closer to her.

"I'm sure you have been thinking about other things. Now, Calder, what have you been thinking about recently?" Carabelle repeated; her voice sounded extremely persuasive—soft and sweet and sympathetic.

His face contorted; his eyes narrowed. His fists clenched; his posture straightened. His muscles contracted; his veins popped against his skin.

"Leila," he whispered forcefully.

"What about Leila?" Carabelle prompted.

He closed his mouth, but it opened. It betrayed him.

"Her death," he answered, agitated.

"What about her death?"

He collapsed and rolled and withered and fought.

He fought and fought with all his might.

But he ultimately lost.

"I let her die. I should've done something. Anything. I just watched. I just let it happen. I-I should've done something to save her. She was my mate. S-she was my mate. They killed her. And I let it happen. I let it happen," he divulged while heaving and attempting to smother her abilities.

"Why did you decide to let them kill her?"

He convulsed from the strength of her abilities; he trembled and tossed before surrendering.

It inundated him.

"I didn't know their intentions. I thought they were just going to torture her. I never thought they would do it. She was my mate. I should've done something. I should've," Calder recited, anguished.

He turned away and refused to look at her.

He reveled in his misery.

"How does it feel?" Carabelle asked quietly.

"Like nothing you've ever experienced," he murmured.

Unsettled, she exited and instantly sought the comforting arms of Alcander.

"I never thought he felt remorse," Delia whispered, completely confounded.

"But he admitted it; he could've done something, anything really, but he chose not to," Alcander voiced while glancing down at Carabelle, who tightened her grip on his waist.

"We should give him some time. He won't respond, especially after what happened," Ly addressed stoically. "You're all dismissed. Training starts soon."

Istinctively, she sought Calder, who shielded himself from them. His shoulders shook. His entire body shook.

She looked away, feeling unsettled, feeling restless.

He had been beaten.

He was prey.

He had always been prey.

But she could not dissolve her resentment.

He deserved it.

He deserved everything.

She walked away, accompanied by a dark but somber presence.

* * *

He ducked, evading the onslaught heading his way; he quickly swooped down, swayed from side-to-side before rapidly upper-cutting his opponent who staggered but composed himself. Promptly, he punched, punted, kicked and seized him from his neck.

She simply stared.

Nicodemus clapped his back.

She simply stared.

He collected himself, looking completely at ease, looking completely level-headed.

But he was repressing himself.

And she could only stare.

His muscles slackened; his facial features softened but his eyes—oh, his eyes—were steely, calculative but tormented.

And she could only stare.

Slowly, she retreated and focused on her basic movements before charging towards Delia, who swiveled and brought her to the ground; she shielded her face before thrusting herself forward and throwing her off balance. Delia swung, hitting her twice before she caught her fists. With one swift movement, she twisted her arm backward and gripped her other wrist with her fingers, but she avoided her expectant hands by back kicking her. Leah stumbled, permitting her to crescent kick her twice. Dizzy but determined, she righted herself and welcomed her forward. Delia dashed forward, freighted a sideways attack, and easily snagged her arms; she kicked her forward before slowly wrapping her arms around her throat. Before she could succeed, Leah bucked and astonished her when she seized her.

Suddenly, Admes extracted her from Delia and towed her toward the back wall; he slammed her against it, surprising her. With her instincts leading her, she calmed her raving nerves and pushed his nearest pressure point. Huffing, she flung him off of her before proceeding with speedy punches; she clobbered him before he grabbed her hand, enclosed it with his own palms, and cracked it. Respiring more shallowly, she clawed through his fingers, but he refused to let her go. Gaining power, she desperately kicked upwards and then downwards, hitting the side of his head and his shoulders. Leah used her weight to force him onto the ground; she battered him, causing his head to bobble to the side.

Aristo stormed forward. From her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of his heels hovering for a few seconds as he bounded forward. When he stayed in mid-air, she propped her leg upward and then slammed him down beside her. Briefly, his eyes widened, but he rolled her until she was beneath him; his hands snaked forward, but her own fingers flew forward, wanting—no, yearning for—release. Her fingers arrived first, strangling him until he fell back.

Abruptly, Acacia besieged her. With burning muscles, aching limbs, and rapid breaths, she propelled herself forward before aiming her fists at Acacia, who expertly evaded her blows; she simply glided forward, circling her before gripping her arms, twisting them backward, kicking her forward, forcing her knees onto the ground, and positioning her arms over Leah's throat.

She promptly let go, relieving her.

They all applauded.

And she simply stared.

"Fantastic job!" Artemisia exclaimed while helping her stand.

"We wanted to see how you would do under stress and you passed," Acastus stated while smirking and patting her back. "You're a natural, Leah!"

"You're really good," Acacia repeated, beaming broadly. "With a few more practices, you'll be unstoppable."

"True," Drakon chimed, smiling.

But she could only stare.

He looked away, stuffing his hands into his pockets, reminding her painfully of—

She stopped, exhaling profusely.

"And then I'll be able to fight against their forces," Leah voiced.

"And you'll be able to fight," Seraphina repeated while wringing her wrists.

"And we'll definitely win," Leah prompted.

"And we'll definitely win," Lailah rehearsed with her shoulders slackened.

"And then the Tree of Life will get better," Leah stated, growing quieter.

"And the Tree of Life will get better," Charmeine recited with constricted muscles.

And then she would go home. The Tree of Life would get better; the portal would reopen, and she would be reunited with her family.

It was tense; it was silent; it was suffocating.

"I need to check up on Demetria and Cyrena," Nicodemus baited. "Does anyone want to come with me?"

She followed, accompanied by his dark but somber presence, accompanied by their grave and despondent presences, accompanied by her own despair.

But she felt lighter when she heard joyous giggles which turned into booming laughter, fast-paced footsteps followed closely by high jumps, swift turns and carefully calculated spins; she involuntarily beamed when she caught a glimpse of the tittering girls who shrilled with delight, who praised one another and expertly performed a tours en l'air. Leah applauded, enthralled.

"Leah, you came!" Demetria exclaimed while bounding forward and lightening her spirits.

Cyrena dashed forward, embracing her with her sister; she delicately wrapped her arms around her shoulders, giggling softly when Leah enveloped the two of them and kissed their sweaty foreheads.

"Will you stay?" Cyrena questioned.

"To watch us, of course," Demetria added, showcasing her brilliant smile.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world," Leah proclaimed.

"Girls, stretch and then you can start," Adara advised.

Obediently, they pointed their feet, elongated their necks and ribcages, straightened their spines, bent their elbows, and lengthened their toned legs and muscles; they positioned their hands around themselves. Gradually, they extended their fingers and arched their back, easily grabbing their toes. Slowly, they slackened their muscles, retreated into their original poses, and repeated twice more before opening their legs. With expertise, they stretched on either side, then eased into a split, and slowly, without any strain, they rose. Together, in perfect sync, the two ballerinas performed a perfect ballonné, followed by an arabesque and a pirouette.

Leah clapped and whistled. While Demetria basked in their glory, Cyrena simply blushed.

"You should try, Leah," Demetria recommended with her irises glistening joyously.

"I couldn't possibly—"

"We've heard so many amazing stories about your dancing," Demetria persuaded. "Dara says that when you dance, everything seems much more happier. And Cara always told us about how calm you seemed. And Drakon says he really admired you. And—"

It was overwhelming; it was flustering; it was inundating.

Leah respired more shallowly. Her head lolled to the side, twisting and turning and tossing in every direction. She desperately tried to compose herself and maintain complete control over her body, but it continued to shake and shiver and resist.

It was overwhelming; it was flustering; it was inundating.

"Leah! Leah!"

It was overwhelming; it was flustering; it was inundating.

"Leah, darling, come on! Don't leave!"

It was overwhelming; it was flustering; it was inundating.

Feeling compressed and condensed, Leah groveled, clawed her chest, and bellowed when her heart began palpitating erratically; she weathered when a strong force harshly seized her from her chest. Blaring, hyperventilating, she rammed herself into a pair of warm but despondent hands.

"Leah!" Drakon shrilled, attempting to anchor her. "Leah, darling, please stay. Leah! Darling!"

Her vision blurred until she was completely blind.

Leah fell, slipping and sliding until she plummeted.

She felt better, calmer, lighter.

When she rose, she strolled through the woods and weaved between the trees; she touched and grazed lovely white roses, involuntarily smiling and giggling. She followed the passage illuminated by a trail of flittering lights, twirling and turning and twittering with genuine happiness.

She encountered a plaid stream whose sides were connected with a beautiful bridge adorned with wild flowers—white roses, whose delicate petals enticed her to touch them, lavender and pretty white daisies, which she plucked and smelt and stowed behind her right ear. Unconsciously, she stepped forward. Her hands brushed the flowers as she wandered forward with her eyes growing large and absorbing the majesty of nature. The light streamed from the other end, inviting her, stimulating her, vowing to save her.

Abruptly, she stopped.

She could hear voices.

Leah caught the faint sound of sweet voices induced with concern, of reassurances, of enchanting lullabies, of prayers, of murmured conversations focused entirely on her, of grave whispers, of sorrow-filled noises muffled by the brewing of tears.

Swallowing, she instinctively retracted, backtracking three paces and swaying toward the end, where she started.

But the light morphed, transfiguring into brief images of her family members leaning over her still figure. Seth rubbed his face; her mom bent herself over her, holding and anchoring her body, while Jacob, her alpha, mourned over her ghastly features. Her pack mates were stoic, barely restraining themselves from showing their frustration and anger, barely repressing themselves from bolting from her bedroom and seeking the source.

Gulping, she moved four paces forwards, but she suddenly stopped when she detected two familiar presences sitting beside her. The two lovers clung onto one another with the female crying openly, with the male comforting her, with the two consoling each other with soothing touches and loving gazes.

Leah stopped, hands fisted together, teeth gritted together, toes planted together.

She couldn't restrain herself from shrieking and shaking, from weeping and wilting, from viciously biting and gnawing on her lips. She couldn't suppress herself from retreating, from pivoting and running to the other side where the voices became louder and more pronounced.

Leah jumped, flying and then falling until she landed lightly.

When her eyelids fluttered, the voices became lighter—more hopeful. Slowly, she awakened and propped herself on her elbows, but she stopped when warm hands helped her. Unwillingly, her head turned, her body turned, her mind turned. His sapphire irises lightened slightly, banishing and battling the darkness which had previously permeated his barriers; his irises softened, exhibiting the beginnings of a cascade of tears, which quickly receded with relief.

"So you're staying?" Drakon asked.

"I guess so," she answered.

"Not that we're not happy, Leah, but why?" Artemisia questioned curiously while wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"I decided to help," Leah said; her voice wavered, and her heart throbbed, but she narrowed her eyes.

Her gaze ensnared her, filling her with an inexplicable sensation. She promptly looked away, knowing that they did not believe her.

"Well, we're happy to see you again, Leah," Adara declared.

"We thought you were going to leave us," Demetria verbalized shakily. Cyrena quivered, scarcely suppressing herself from sobbing.

"We don't want you to leave," Cyrena whispered, "but we know why you would."

A potent twinge tormented her heart. She had been ready; she had been ready to abandon them without caring for the war waging between them.

Leah hugged them and stroked the back of their heads; she caressed the sides of their faces and joked with them. The two simpered, but the others merely watched.

They knew.

They all knew. Even the little girls who didn't want to believe the truth.

It was overwhelming; it was flustering; it was inundating.

* * *

It was nighttime.

And she was growing increasingly restless.

After carefully ambulating across her bedroom, she tiptoed down the corridor with the intention of checking on her parents; she left when she peeked through the cracks and noticed their chests rising and descending with peace. While avoiding the creaky boards, she bounded down the staircase and exited her house. Leah walked across the lawn until she was completely engulfed by soft light emanated by the moon.

As she danced, she summoned blurry images of familiar individuals who cruised beside her, who hummed and sang and applauded and cherished her despite her imperfections; she visualized a lanky, timid boy asking for her hand while stuttering and stumbling forward and blushing. Giggling, she accepted and moved with ease; he regained his confidence and twirled her around before hurriedly picking her up, hoisting her above his shoulders and softly placing her back onto the ground.

Suddenly, she stopped and stiffened.

Her fantasy ended.

Her eyes sought the source who had interrupted her.

Stealthily, she slunk into the shadows, crouched lowly, and pounced on the source, who immediately yelped and groaned and flushed. She secured him and scowled. But she stopped. He trembled underneath her, muttering senselessly under his breath, growing more and more panicked and flustered underneath her intense stare. Eventually, she loosened her hold and knelt in front of the dark-haired boy who apologized profusely, who wrung his wrists and slowly wrapped his arms around his knees.

He reminded her of _him_.

"Leah, I'm so sorry. I really shouldn't have been spying. I'm really, really sorry," he began.

"Samuel Uley?" Leah questioned once her eyes adjusted.

"Yes," he confirmed; voice tight and strained and embarrassed. "I'm so, so, so sorry!"

"You'll wake up my parents if you keep talking loudly," she noted. "It's fine but why were you spying on me?"

"I-I like to w-watch you d-dance," he uttered with his eyes downcast and his cheeks stained with rouge. "Y-you look s-so peaceful. And your d-dancing is p-perfect. I like it."

"Thank you," she responded while grinning broadly. "And I'm sorry for jumping on you. Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm okay," he mumbled.

"Well, I think we should go to bed. I'll see you at school tomorrow," she bade before glancing down at his extended hand.

"You s-should sit with m-my friends and I," he vocalized. "We w-would love t-to have you back. We'd love to be friends again."

"Are you sure?" Leah asked, stunned.

"Of course," he affirmed.

In an overwhelmingly spontaneous burst of energy and emotion, she flung herself into his arms.

"Thank you," she responded. "You've been really nice. I'll see you tomorrow then. At lunch?"

"At lunch," he confirmed, dizzy with elation.

After prancing across the lawn, she scanned and studied Sam, whose hands unconsciously settled over his flustered cheeks, whose eyes instinctively captured her own and quickly fell. Feeling blissful, she entered, closed her entrance door, climbed her stairs, and securely tucked herself underneath her covers.

* * *

Jittery, she walked down the hall, stiffened, and promptly exhaled with relief when Sam grabbed her wrist and grinned at her. She loomed over him, making him blush and stagger and nearly topple over; she quickly grabbed his wrist and righted him.

"Thanks," he rendered, smiling sheepishly.

"You're welcome," she amended while beaming broadly.

"Come on," Sam said while towing her along. "I told them, and they're excited."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Leah uttered, growing nervous and dreadful.

"You could never," he responded while reddening further. She simply smiled.

When she reached his table, his rowdy friends quieted and stared, making her bounce back-and-forth.

"Guys, this is Leah, and she'll be sitting with us," Sam vocalized.

"Sammy-kin, we already know Leah," Rachael vocalized before standing up, sauntering forward, and readily hugging her. "We were friends after all."

"How have your classes been?" Rebecca asked pleasantly.

"Good," she responded, slowly coming out of her shell.

"Miss Smartie Pants here skipped a grade, and now she thinks she's smarter than us and can't socialize with us anymore," Paul mentioned without venom. Rachael smacked his head with her notebook, making Jared chortle with glee.

"A rock is smarter than you, Paul," Rachel snapped before flipping her hair over her shoulders and huffing.

"I resent that!" Paul exclaimed with his hand over his chest.

"But seriously, I apologize for him. He was being stupid," Rachael added before pinching his sides.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, Leah. That was way out of line, but seriously why did you stop talking to us?" Paul asked

"Because our classes weren't together anymore, and I didn't think you guys wanted to see me because I left," Leah explained sincerely.

"Oh, Leah, we could never be angry with you," Rebecca emphasized before welcoming her forward and embracing her.

"Now that our lunches are the same, there's nothing that could ever separate us," Sam remarked before stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking away.

"One big, happy family!" Paul shouted.

And she grinned widely, ardently, _happily_.

* * *

Their friendship was complicated, especially with the longing yet uncertain glances he threw her way when he thought she was distracted; he constantly lifted his head, directed his gaze toward her, stared, and then promptly looked away when she turned in his direction.

She smiled, completely amused by his nervous actions, by the blush flourishing on his cheeks, by his shy, timid grins.

When she tutored him, he stumbled over his words and flushed. She beamed, entertained by his gawkiness.

"Sam, we're always going to be friends, right?"

"Of course," he responded; his voice was quiet and raspy, clogged with nervousness and awkwardness.

She smiled, completely enthralled by their budding yet complicated relationship.

* * *

 _He had died_.

Her father had died.

She stood motionless with her heart racing, with her blood pounding in her ears, with her eyes staring blankly at the floor.

Her father had died.

Suddenly, she collapsed, chest heaving, heart slamming against her chest, temples throbbing.

Her father had died.

She screamed and sniveled and shrieked with all her might.

 **He had died!**

 **Her father had died!**

She sobbed and wept hysterically.

She bellowed and held herself upright with her arms.

Her father had died; he had died. He had died. He had died.

She could barely breathe.

 _He had died_.

And she could barely live with herself.

It was too much.

She couldn't deal with it.

Upon seeing her darling father lying in his coffin, upon seeing the ghastliness of his face, his pallid eyelids, his lack of expression and liveliness, she started to shake; she trembled and then convulsed violently before plunging to the ground and closing her eyes. While gritting her teeth, she withered against the hands that snatched her from the ground, swept her away from her deceased father, and laid her on the ground, where she tossed and turned.

With her spine cracking and her jaw clenching, she exploded into a beast—into a monster. She howled with confusion, with fury, with anguish.

"Leah, calm down."

It was Sam.

Unwillingly, images of their beautiful encounters, of their beautiful past, flowed through her head before entering through his head. He stood still, spine still, paws still with sorrow. Vengefully, she summoned memories of his instinctive betrayal, of his wandering eyes, of his admiration toward her cousin and finally his ultimate action: his ultimate decision to dump her, to throw her away like trash and claim her cousin as his eternal _lover_.

He flinched.

And she reveled in his discomfort.

"You're a protector. It's our duty to help the people of La Push," Sam revealed.

"And it's also our duty to betray others? To destroy them emotionally? Some protector you are," she muttered, making him recoil.

She grew stronger, fiercer, but sadder, especially when he stared at her with pity.

"I'm sorry, Leah, but I'm hoping that someday you'll understand and accept what happened. I imprinted on your cousin, Emily, and it's our fate to be together," Sam exposed. Her heart clenched. Her eyes narrowed. Her body shook.

It was too much.

She couldn't deal with it.

And she didn't.

She ran away, leaving him behind.

She sought her father—his warm, welcoming hands, which rubbed and patted her back and stabilized her, his understanding gaze, his reassuring murmurs which always, _always_ soothed her.

 _But he was gone_.

She stood in bitter silence, watching and waiting.

Watching her father get lowered down into the ground.

Waiting for his guests to leave.

But when they left, it was too late; he was gone, buried six feet under.

She stood in bitter silence, crying, sobbing, howling.

 _Goodbye, daddy_.

* * *

Uniformed soldiers and guards patrolled the vicinity, remaining expressionless as they surveyed the area for possible intruders. With an air of solemnity, she dipped her head forward and trudged onward. A few guards saluted before proceeding onward. Coasting away from the center, she breezed into the far left side of the kingdom and descended the stairs that led to the garden. She admired the profusion of roses weaving and intertwining up the handles, entangling themselves further onto their vines and drooling downward; daisies and peonies attached themselves to every individual stair, tickling her ankles and stimulating her senses. An array of lavender licked her legs when she stepped on the bottom-most level, and, when a light gale streamed around her, the lovely fragrance of the intertwining flowers engulfed her. Wide-mouthed and wide-eyed, she continued.

Butterflies with a surreal quality—an ability to expel short waves of light, which gradually faded when they whizzed by—brushed her cheekbones, thrilling her, delighting her, enlivening her further. An array of indigo flowers—shaped like bells, which opened every few seconds, stretched, and then receded back into their fold—captured her complete attention; the bushes stationed beside those flowers possessed the ripest, most vivid fruits she had ever laid eyes on. After blowing on a row of dandelions, she reveled in the sensation of the white wisps frolicking beside her.

Leah rushed through the field, admiring and finally plucking a Gladiolus, which, as she skimmed its delicate petals with the tips of her fingers, had a texture that reminded her of silk. Suddenly, it transformed, changing into glass.

Her pupils dilated with interest; her hands twitched with familiarity.

"Gladiolus represent strength," he orated once he emerged from the surrounding foliage. "But, when it changes to glass, it represents the dreamer aspect of your personality."

"That's what Carabelle said when I first came here," Leah mentioned. "I'm sorry. Did I interrupt you?"

"No, it's completely fine. I always come here when I need to clear my head."

"It's a nice, relaxing place."

"It is," he confirmed before sitting down. "So what brings you here?"

"I needed to clear my head," Leah maintained while joining him.

He hummed.

"So, did you manage to do it?" Leah asked before clarifying. "Did you manage to clear your head?"

"It's not really possible. The more I try to clear my head, the more confused and frustrated I get. It's useless."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Leah asked after a pause. "My parents always said that the best way to clear your head is to talk about your problems."

"Do you always follow their advice?"

"No, not really," she confessed. "At least, not anymore. I probably should. It's really good advice."

"It is," he affirmed, "and my parents always say the same thing. I really do try to talk about my problems, but sometimes it's just easier to keep them inside. Easier not to burden others with your problems."

She nodded, understanding completely.

"Advancements have been made. We've managed to take back two villages where they kept some of their military supplies and tactics, as well as some of our prisoners and some of their guards. It's fantastic, of course—really encouraging—but I can't help but wonder why they would openly leave their defenses lowered," he conjectured. "It's frustrating, especially since innocent people are risking their lives and families are being wrecked."

"I can't imagine how much it must hurt to lose someone in this way," she conveyed. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fine."

"Really?"

"I feel okay on most days," he confided. "But it's hard, especially when you witness it first hand, especially when it's someone you were attached to completely and thought of as a family member. I really, really thought of her as my sister. She lived with us; she trained with us; she cared for us. And we cared for her. We really did. And everything she did, she did to help. She really did protect us—even when we were being tortured, and I couldn't do anything. I didn't do anything. If I could go back, I would—I would try to see the hints for the ambush, the mistakes they had left and evacuated everyone, but I didn't. I didn't."

"I'm sure there wasn't anything you could do. You shouldn't blame yourself over something that was completely out of your control."

"I still could've tried," he disclosed before bending forward and inclining his head. "I could've done anything."

"It's easy to feel guilty, but it's hard to come to terms with what happened."

"Sounds like you've experienced it. Do you want to talk about it? I understand if you don't. Take all the time that you need."

"No, no, I'm fine. I should be at least," she muttered before clearing her voice and staring straight ahead.

"My dad died," Leah started after swallowing thickly. "He died more than a year ago, but it still affects me, probably because I feel a bit guilty. I spiraled out of control. I was inconsolable after what had happened, and I didn't pay attention to the signs. His heart—well, it wasn't working correctly anymore. It was dying. And I didn't see it until he died from a heart attack. Maybe if I hadn't been pestering him or worrying him or acting like how I did, then maybe he wouldn't have had a heart attack. Maybe he would have been hospitalized and not killed."

"But you never saw it coming," he pointed out, capturing her attention. "You never noticed his heart problems, so you didn't see it coming, but it's honestly not your fault, Leah. And your father wouldn't want you to feel guilty over what happened. Sometimes, we all spiral out of control, but when we pass through it, we know we always have the support of family and friends. It wasn't your fault. You shouldn't blame yourself over what happened."

"It's so much easier to give advice, but it's so much harder to actually listen to your own advice and follow through with it."

"I guess we're both in the same boat," he commented. "Maybe one day, we'll both come to terms with our actions."

"Maybe one day," she repeated mindlessly before surveying him. "Thanks for listening. It really helped."

"Anytime, darling," he responded, smiling genuinely.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading! I really appreciate it!

I hope everyone liked this chapter. Constructive criticism is welcomed!

Next update will be in two days!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: _Seraphina_

Shrill shrieks sounded.

She skyrocketed, propelling herself forward and pumping her legs faster and faster until the undertones contacted her. Leah barged into one of the rooms and, after detecting the bellowing figure, she rushed forward.

Her eyelids palpitated; her heart pulsated. Leah sprinted forward, cradling the withering, weathering teenager whose nightmares became reality.

She was standing, watching as her brother lashed out, watching as he suddenly collapsed. He twisted and contorted and screamed with anguish; his flesh throbbed as his muscles expanded beneath the surface, as they thickened and strengthened. Howling, he receded into himself, but his shoulders broadened, his body lengthened, and his veins started popping against his skin. Yelping, he scratched his flesh with his nails, creating long gashes which rapidly repaired themselves. Finally, with cracking bones, he transfigured into a shape shifter with light fur, perked ears, and wide, playful eyes. With his tongue extended, he inspected himself, barking with genuine satisfaction at his transformation.

Unwillingly, her exterior cracked; she chuckled and smiled when her brother foolishly chased after himself, when he sniffed the air, ruffled his own fur with his paws and twitched his nose at the sudden gust of air flowing in his direction. Gradually, his muscles tensed, following the lovely fragrance of sea salt and vanilla. She suddenly stopped. Underneath the surrounding trees, concealed completely by the verdure and the approaching darkness, stood two human-shaped shadows—one which possessed a slender yet curvaceous figure, and another which bore predominantly stronger features. Seth stopped. Slowly, his head rolled to the side, but the umbra vanished. His shoulders sagged, but his tail began to wag from side-to-side and his mood became lighter, more playful, more cheerful.

When he transformed, his features completely morphed, becoming masculine and muscular; he completely lost his previously rounded features, resembling a man, but when his dimpled smile appeared and his eyes ignited with mirth, he resembled his previous self—a happy, go-lucky teenager with an air of awkwardness. Her beam broadened, but it quickly faltered and vanished.

The atmosphere completely transfigured, becoming darker and chiller and frightening.

It was twilight.

And shrill shrieks sounded.

Whining and whimpering, she drooped and deflated when poisonous liquids surged through her veins; she shrunk further, eyes widening with fear, hands shaking furiously, knees buckling, limbs trembling erratically. While grating her teeth, clenching her stomach, jutting her jaw, she viciously fought against her restraints. But the poison slowed down her progress. Leah wandered forward, clawing, pawing, but the restraints never opened; her eyes glazed over, watching her own blood gushing from her wounds.

When her head lulled to the side, the tremors racking her shoulders overwhelmed her; she convulsed, crying but praying. Always praying. While cackling maliciously, while glowering with permanent rage and darkness, while clenching and unclenching his fists with deliberation, he walked forward with a charming teenager with concerned eyes. Suddenly, the man's features softened significantly; he walked forward, revealing his features—consisting of vivid, emerald irises, broad eyebrows, cropped, onyx hair, swarthy skin, and a tall, muscular frame which loomed above her own. The teenager mirrored his father's bewitching allure with the brightest jade eyes she had ever seen, with the darkest hair, with the smoothest, most unmarred, tan flesh. He was tall and regal.

Leah unconsciously flinched, recognizing him immediately.

Acacia's mate.

Scurrying forwards, he brushed the perspiration on her forehead with the back of his hand. He murmured soft reassurances and thumbed the blackened skin underneath her eyes. Instinctively, she recoiled, snarling and scowling when his eyes narrowed but ultimately receded back into their normal, naturally concerned gaze. She spat, simpering madly when he glowered. Chuckling, he wiped the slobber from his visage and cracked his knuckles, throwing his father a casual, sideways glance.

"Oh, beautiful, beautiful Seraphina," he uttered; his tenor was enchanting, smooth and delicate. "You've been traveling recently. Mind telling me where?"

She growled, snapping her teeth together.

"It's alright, dearest Seraphina. I'm sure I'll know soon enough. Surely, your mate will come here on day, or maybe I'll just have my closest contacts follow you and infiltrate your beautiful kingdom, just like my father did. It was easy, wasn't it, father?"

"Very easy," he confided, sauntering leisurely. "Look at what happened to poor Alma and her dearest mate. Such a pity. But it had to be done."

"Little Seraphina, just tell us where you went, where you've been going. You've been traveling. Just tell us, dear. You'll be freed through this experience," he persuaded.

"Rot in Hell," she cursed.

"That would surely be an enlightening, fortifying experience," he commented mindlessly, smirking and contorting his facial features. "Maybe a little persuasion will convince you?"

He injected her with venom, smirking when she writhed, screamed, shouted and shrunk further.

"It won't kill you, dearest Seraphina. Your body will expel it soon, and when it does, you'll confess. If you don't, then I'm afraid I'll have to inject some more, and I really, really don't want to do that. It hurts me to see you hurt," he remarked, pushing back her sweat-drenched hair.

Rapidly, her body discharged the poisonous liquid; she vomited and heaved and glared at the approaching figure who clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and slowly swiped the corners of her mouth with his thumb. She sibilated, hissing when he dodged her saliva and, in one easy movement, forcefully puckered her lips.

"Seraphina, darling, hasn't your mother told you that spitting is extremely unladylike? What will your precious mate say when he meets you?" he mocked, freighting apprehension. She scoffed, intriguing him further. "You want to meet him, don't you? I can tell. You're eager; you're ready but you can't meet him. Why?"

After walking forwards, his father peered at her, smirked, rolled back his shoulders and confronted the simple creature who eyed him with distaste.

"You're afraid," his father stated while flexing his voice and tinging it with sympathy. "If you just change sides, you'll be able to meet your mate without any fear. I give you my word."

"Your word means nothing to me," she verbalized, shuddering when his fingers snaked through her hair, violently gripped her roots, and tore off pieces. She groaned, gnawing repeatedly on her bottom lip to prevent herself from shrieking.

"That's too bad. You would've made a beautiful soldier," he vocalized, sighing with regret. "But don't worry, Seraphina. We're not angry. Not at all. Unfortunately, we have to leave, but we'll see you soon. I hope you have fun here, Sera."

She blacked out, falling and tumbling and finally rolling to the side. Abruptly, she lunged, chest heaving, eyes widening, breaths puffing. Perturbed, she crawled from underneath the fortress, wobbling slightly as she ascended and trekked forward. Sera eyed the upcoming darkness with dread but determination. When the obscurity finally converged with her shivering frame, she seethed, immediately jolting and jumping backward; the haze quickly environed her, gripping and burning her ankles before twirling and racing up her legs. Yipping, she staggered and tripped, landing on her arms and screaming when the fog licked her wrists. It receded. Swallowing thickly, she glanced down at the marks lining her wrists, coating her ankles, layering her legs and torso.

Leisurely, she trudged forward and rubbed her forearms before stopping and slinking through the trees with caution; she prowled the edge of the timberlands before fully immersing herself with the verdure and weaving through the forest. She stalked closer towards the hearth of the woods. Wringing her wrists, she slithered forward. Suddenly, she stopped, heels hovering, eyes widening, fists enclosing.

In a series of quick, calculative movements, she pivoted, throwing back her fists, punching, punting, and upper cutting with incredible speed; she kicked and finally hurled herself through the air, catching her opponent completely off-guard. She pinned her adversary to the ground, taking down his wrists with her palms and tackling down his jittery legs with her knees. She growled, growing closer to his jugular with her salient teeth. When he bucked, she pinched his pressure points. She snorted when he moaned and slackened.

"Where am I?" she questioned, jostling him.

He tittered, groaning when she banged his head against the ground and neared his jugular once more.

"Where am I?" she repeated anxiously.

"In the forest," he answered sardonically. She thundered, crashing and rattling him further.

"Where am I? And I must warn you that I'm running out of patience. You have one try or—"

"Or what? You're going to charm me?" he mocked, infuriating her.

Detonating, she condensed the atmosphere, deepening and thickening but reducing the oxygen; he suffocated, squeezing and clawing desperately at his exposed neck, creating and elongating his gashes, drawing and claiming his own blood. She stopped, normalizing the air and keeping her physical hold over his racking frame. He wheezed, glaring, snarling but weakening underneath her powerful form.

"Where am I?" she repeated.

"In the forest. But it's not a regular forest. It's a training facility. And they're watching," he spluttered, gasping when she suddenly rose from her position.

"Who's watching?" she questioned steadily, although her pupils dilated with trepidation.

"You should know," he stated abstractly before evaporating. She tottered and teetered, swaying dramatically to the side before completely vanishing.

After rising, she scanned her environment, which consisted of one wide room, completely devoid of decorations and entirely barren of any life; she gulped, tiptoeing toward the exit and, after not being able to detect any other presences, she deliberately bounded toward the door, opened it, and checked the long corridor in front of her for any essences. Springing, she stepped forward and very languidly strolled down the passageway. It ended at the start of a new pathway. She bolted through the door, nearly choking with exasperation when three doors materialized. Reluctantly, she lurched through the middle aperture, huddled closer to herself, and wheezed when the opening behind her quickly faded. Frightened beyond belief, she strode forward, opening one last door and entering an enclosed room with excrements and blood piled in the corners. Aghast, she swiveled and faced a large, burly creature with rippling muscles, pointed fangs, and perked ears. Standing, he loomed above her, inundating her.

Tentatively, she backtracked, barely suppressing herself from screaming when he zoomed forward. He forcefully raised her chin with his outgrown nails and experimentally punctured her cheeks with his claws; she gnarled before crescent kicking him, stomping on his feet, kicking his groin and rushing forward. But he expertly snagged her ankles, throwing her off balance and then spinning her in circles around him. His tongue lolled to the side; his dark irises blazed with amusement. She spat, hitting his eyes, which slanted, becoming mere slits as he regarded her with blood lust. She snapped her ankles forward, managing to batter his face and release herself from his tight grip; she rapidly surged forward, punching his eyes and indulging herself further by shutting them completely with her nails. Bellowing, he clobbered her but, with determination kindling her chest, she administered the fatal blow to his temples.

Applause sounded.

"Such a beautiful job! When my superiors recommended you, I have to admit I was extremely skeptical, considering your background, but it seems like your natural instincts came out to play. You see, your body understands that only the strong survive, and the weak—well, you can clearly see what happens to them. Such a pity really, but it's necessary."

His features were striking; his azure irises frequently flickered and flared with curiosity and enthusiasm, illuminating his pallid complexion, softening his dominant facial features. He had a structured nose and carved cheekbones, which became rounder and softer with every simper and smile. Excitedly, he clapped, cherishing her for her abilities, but with every praise, her eyelids twitched, her fists closed around themselves, and her heart rate accelerated. She respired shallowly before moving forward and flinging herself mid-air. With ease, he captured her by her throat, beaming broadly as she squirmed, as she ardently clawed and pawed and gnawed through his defenses.

"Silly girl," he cooed. "I train everyone here. I've been trusted by my superiors and regarded very highly. What makes you believe that a mere fourteen-year-old with minimal experience and a conscience can defeat me—a trained expert who has lived many years?"

He throttled her but eventually, after sighing, he released her. Immediately, she extracted herself from his presence; she scowled and glowered but ultimately recoiled when his fingertips outlined the side of her face.

"You look just like your mother. But then again, so do all of your sisters and even your brothers. Tell me, Seraphina, how does it feel to be completely indistinguishable from your sisters? Completely undesirable? Completely forgotten?" he tantalized, growing louder and stronger as she simply stared at the bruises darkening her flesh. "Maybe that's why you wanted to meet your mate so badly? Maybe that's why you decided to seek him out despite the consequences? Not to make sure that he was safe, but for more selfish reasons. You wanted to feel special. Am I right?"

Her lips wobbled.

"I am, aren't I?" he asked rhetorically. "Well, you've had an eventful day. You should rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big, big day!"

Once he snapped his fingers, she fell unconscious.

When she resurfaced, she blearily but frigidly regarded the approaching immortals whose foreheads were creased, whose fists twitched, whose eyes continuously circled their environment. After deciding to ignore the presences watching them, they checked her vitals; she steadied herself but nearly collapsed when her knees buckled. Hurriedly, one of the boys from the group balanced her but retreated when she sneered. But slowly, she inched forward, unconsciously furrowing her eyebrows when she neared them. Suddenly, she propelled herself forward, embracing the boy who had righted her.

"Alistair, Damien, Radley!" she exclaimed, heart racing, eyes unwillingly gathering moisture, chest jouncing, heels bouncing. "But w-we searched and—"

"And you couldn't find us," Radley responded knowingly. His previously hardened facial features softened; his cheekbones, although defined and masculine, softened, rounding drastically at the edges, curving inward, and exposing an indent on his right cheek. When he unshadowed his face, his irises—a lovely, warm shade of brown—blazed and burned with friendly affection, mirroring the expression curling his lips upward.

"I'm really sorry, but we really couldn't—"

"It's alright. It's taken us a while to figure out where we might be since our location is virtually invisible," Alistair declared, soothing her with his calming, reassuring touches. But she continued to lament. With his brawny figure, hardened features, his rough callouses and bodily scars, he resembled a warrior—not the child she had played with as a child, not the awkward pubescent pre-teen or the slightly more matured teenager. But when he comforted her, he grinned, curving his cheeks; he playfully ruffled her hair, chuckling when she swatted him but beamed.

"We really tried, and Eva's been—"

Alistair recoiled, eyes watering before hardening.

"Where are we then?" she questioned instead.

"In a training facility, somewhere in the outskirts of civilization—very remote, very isolated, very undetectable," Damien verbalized. He had a harmonic voice, flickering hazel eyes and tousled, dark locks. Damien embraced her, squeezing her with brotherly affection. "We don't actually know where we are exactly."

"We'll find out soon enough," Radley chirped.

"But we have to stay here," Alistair proclaimed but, upon perceiving the deep creases forming on her forehead and her scrunched nose, he quickly added, "We're in a training facility for immortals, specifically those with special abilities. And a select few—us included—were 'graciously' selected as the more advanced, elite group."

"They only recruit children and teenagers; it's easier to control us apparently," Radley intoned while rolling his eyes and shrugging his broad shoulders. "Adults usually supervise us, but they're—"

"They're ruthless to put it lightly," Damien uttered.

"But we'll protect you; we'll make sure that y-you don't get hurt," Alistair spoke while stumbling over his words. Unwillingly, his irises glazed over completely; his pupils dilated and enlarged, broadcasting horrid memories. Gulping, his disposition morphed completely, becoming conflicted and terrorized but gradually receding into a stoic expression.

She evaded him, for fear of crumbling and perishing underneath the pressure currently hovering above her shoulders.

"Let's get you settled before the rest of the Elite Team arrives," Raldey rehearsed after clearing his throat. "You'll get to bunk with us."

"It'll be like old times," Damien stated, bumping her shoulders with his stalwart frame.

"When we used to have cutesy, little playdates, slumber parties and such lovely tea parties with your stuffed animals," Alistair said after recovering.

"Don't forget that you couldn't drink tea without your fluffy, little bunny," she mocked, shuffling with delight when he rolled his eyes. "What was his name?"

"Mimsy, wasn't it?" Damien teased.

"Of course," Alistair affirmed without embarrassment.

For a brief moment, they were exuberant, simpering and pushing, joshing and joking, snorting and snickering with sincere mirth. But it quickly vanished; the moment hurriedly passed, leaving them with remaining traces of laughter on their faces, but their expressions gradually hardened with grief and misery.

Shrill shrieks sounded.

The mood drastically and dramatically transformed, becoming darker and chillier and much more frightening.

Shuddering, she traveled throughout the barren facility, repressing the urge to wrap her arms around her quivering form. Chin raised, shoulders squared, jaw jutted, she stalked down the hallways before stopping at the end of the corridor, where one of the doors creaked open. Panicking, she walked through the aperture before bounding forward and reaching the center, where her friends lay limply, blood gushing from their wounds, eyes blank and whitened completely. She shrieked, desperately clutching onto their still and frigid bodies.

Suddenly, they dissolved. But their shrill shrieks sounded.

Nearly tearing her lip, she crouched and covered her ears. She closed her eyes, attempting to salvage her sanity. Abruptly, she bounced backward and twisted in the hands of a tall teenager with sterling irises. Slowly, his visage contorted drastically, becoming deformed and pronounced; his irises narrowed, becoming slits which exposed his lust for blood. She stayed silent but, when he roared, she roundhouse kicked him, hitting his core; she collapsed and kicked his feet, throwing him off balance. Frantically, she extracted herself from the vicinity, but he dragged her and clawed her legs. Kicking, she released herself, but his claws embedded themselves into her calf, puncturing further and damaging her muscles. She stayed still and, when he approached her with his teeth exposed, she removed the moisture from the air. After a few seconds, he plunged, landing on her heaving chest. Sera pushed his upper half away from her, but his claws stayed on her flesh. Agonizing, she lifted her core and quickly extracted him from her lower half; she barely suppressed herself from shrieking.

Her blood spilled, but her heart clenched and hardened.

"Seraphina, where are you? Sera?" Radley called.

"Here," she croaked but her eyes were trained on the figure who slowly changed back.

It wasn't an adult.

It was a child.

"Seraphina, we've been looking for you! You shouldn't roam—"

He stopped, completely speechless. But it quickly evaporated.

"He's a child. I thought—"

"Sera, it's okay. Let's go," he muttered.

"He's a child," she whispered, trembling tremendously. "I didn't know—"

He shushed her before towing her away. But she continued muttering, grieving, mourning, crying.

It was child—a little boy with freckles covering his ghastly cheeks, with tousled flaxen hair, with a small, runty body.

It was a child.

 _It was a child_.

 ** _It was a child_**.

* * *

He applauded her, simpering and smirking, clapping and then clasping his fingers around her wrists; he towed her forward, dragging her to the center of the facility and flinging her in front of a teenager with familiar striking features. She had pallid skin, which was dotted with small freckles, and flaxen ringlets. Sera trembled, shaking her head, wringing her wrists and hissing under her breath.

"Cali, your brother was scheduled to be examined today, correct?"

"Of course," she stated, growing increasingly nervous. "He was having trouble shifting."

"Your brother had the ability to shift into whatever creature he wanted, right?"

"Has the ability," she whispered, visibly struggling to maintain her composure.

"Had the ability, darling. Little Sera took care of his problem. He'll no longer be joining us," he disclosed while analyzing her.

Wordlessly, she bowed her head, shrouding her true sentiments from the rest of the onlookers; she retreated, knees wobbling slightly before quickly steading and readying themselves. Swallowing thickly, she respired profoundly before completely composing herself and, with a stoic expression, extracted herself from the vicinity; her shoulders, although rigid and squared, shook slightly, mirroring her crumbling composure. Sera lowered herself to the ground, violently gripping the roots of her hair.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

But she stayed silent, clawing the sides of her face, opening wounds and drawing blood.

I'm sorry. And she truly was. She really was.

Shrill shrieks sounded.

And she convulsed, screaming and shrinking and shrilling.

"Stop! I'll do it! I'll do it! Just leave her alone!" Damien bellowed before dreadfully trudging forward and plucking her from the soiled ground. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her lungs constricted; her throat compacted. So she couldn't speak.

Her temples throbbed; her head pulsated. So she couldn't breathe.

With her stomach aching, with her head spinning, with her limbs trembling, she leaned sideways and vomited; she shuddered, unconsciously nestling herself further into the crook of his arms and apologizing and thanking him but always, always apologizing.

Her chest burned; her eyes watered. And she couldn't see.

Her vision blurred; her heart palpitated. And she couldn't focus.

Abruptly, her vision cleared, exploding with sudden vividness, brightening and lightening completely. Liberated and relieved, she ascended and emerged from the darker side of the forest, moving and meandering towards the lighter side where the effulgence brushed the very tops of her cheeks and warmed her soul; she tittered with laughter, simpering and twirling and skipping to-and-fro. Elated, she skipped forwards, springing and skittering with glee toward the far end, where she encountered the plaid waves of the ocean. Overflowing with joy, she dove into the ocean, reveling in the sensation of the soft touch of the waves and even indulging herself further by swimming through the depths.

When the waves rippled and stilled, she swiveled, eyeing the approaching figure with suspicion and then trepidation. Eyes widening, pupils dilating, she merely riveted the male who brushed the concern stirring in her chest by resting his palms on the sides of her flustered cheeks. Chuckling, with his eyes squinting, he gathered her in his arms and, very slowly, released her.

He was lovely. A miracle. Salvation.

Suddenly, he squawked with his eyes whitening rapidly—with his swarthy skin quickly draining of color and becoming ghastly; his previously sturdy frame slackened, weakening completely and becoming limp. She screamed and sniveled and sped forward to receive his body in her arms.

But he evaporated.

And she bellowed, scratching and clawing desperately. Vigorously, she flung herself forward, ripping through the torrent tides and suddenly bursting through the barriers; she heaved, erecting herself and, with anxiousness and desperation, she catapulted herself forward, landing in expectant arms.

"Calm down, Sera. Calm down," Radley soothed, stroking her hair.

"Where's Damien?" she inquired.

"He'll return soon," Alistair whispered; his voice wavered and faltered and ultimately died off. She shuddered but stilled.

The sound of heavy footsteps permeated the thickening and tensioning atmosphere. Her spine arched; her eyes narrowed. Abruptly, the footsteps hastened and faltered but finally entered the infirmary. She loosened her constricted muscles and, without hesitation, she hugged Damien, who, instead of embracing her, simply stood rigidly with his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, with his eyes watering but ultimately hardening.

"I-I'm sorry," she whispered.

But he stayed silent.

I'm sorry. And she truly was. She really was.

* * *

Shrill shrieks sounded.

And she hit her victim, silencing him.

From her peripheral vision, he diverged from his usual path by careening forward and inspecting Cali, who, with swift fingers, quickly cracked her opponent's neck, twisted back his arms and pinned him face down. He applauded her, praising her for her abilities, but, in a sudden and unexpected fit, she suddenly launched herself forward, attempting to strangle him. While grinning broadly and cackling with mirth, he retreated and, when she lunged again, he quickly snapped and twisted her neck, reveling in the warmth dispersing through his fingers.

It was cold and frightening still. Until chaos erupted.

Every member attacked, assailing every director and leader. Infuriated, she zoomed forward, weaving through the combatants and seeking the ringmaster who merely smirked. Using her speed as an advantage, she crescent kicked him until his head bobbled backward; she speedily tackled him, but he rolled over and pinned her down. Deliberately, he gripped her roots and battered her by hitting her head against the floor; he clawed through her visage, tearing and ripping off large chunks. Without hesitating, he stretched out the corners of her eyes until she yelled; he clobbered her, laughing and finally breaking her.

She lost consciousness.

When she awoke, it was twilight. And it was frightfully still.

Her face was swollen; she sported bruises and gashes, deformities and broken bones. It hurt to breathe; her nose was blocked, barely remedied, and her chest constricted from the broken ribs.

"We'll get out soon," Alistair promised.

"Today," she murmured before growing stronger. "Today. Today. Today."

* * *

She was beautiful. A vision. Angelic. Demonic.

"The children left unseen," Radley reported.

"Good. We can start. I'll take this floor. Help Damien and Alistair," she commented before pouring the gasoline on the floor and on every single piece of furniture.

She lit the fire, smiling and beaming widely.

Everything was on fire, including herself. It enveloped her, whispering such lovely reassurances. She embraced it. She welcomed it. She loved it.

She blacked out, falling and tumbling and finally rolling to the side. Abruptly, she lunged, chest heaving, eyes widening, breaths puffing.

"You're fine, Sera," Delia reassured, placating her.

"Oh Sera, are you okay? Does anything hurt?" her mother—a mystical woman whose movements were incredibly graceful and rapid as she embraced and nurtured and coddled her; her eyes, the color of roaring waters which slowly pacified itself, betrayed her woe and despair and her eventual relief as her daughter relaxed in her hold, as her baby inhaled her motherly aroma and placed herself in the crook of her neck. Seraphina trembled, sniveling and weeping but ultimately silencing herself.

 _She had fallen_.

* * *

Despair and sorrow swarmed her.

Seraphina hysterically wailed and whined and withered with dejection when the convulsions she had been suppressing suddenly assailed her.

Leah coaxed her, whispering such lovely reassurances.

"You saw. You weren't supposed to. You probably think—but you're right. You're right. You really are. I'm a monster. And you haven't seen everything. You haven't even seen everything. You weren't supposed to watch. Now you know. Now you know. I'm a monster," Sera repeated before whispering quickly but quietly under her breath.

"You're not a monster," Leah persuaded. "You're far from that."

"I've killed."

"So have I," Leah remarked while brushing away her cascade of tears.

"B-but—"

"You did everything you could to survive. Everything. And I can't blame you for what you couldn't control," Leah proclaimed, soothing her considerably. "You're still Seraphina. You're still an angel in my eyes. And now you're a survivor."

Tremors racked her shoulders.

"I'm really sorry," she murmured. "So, so sorry."

"Sera, you don't have—"

"I broke my promise. I promised that I would never look for him. But I did. I did," she asserted. "I'm so sorry."

"But you didn't meet him. And even if you did, I could never blame you," Leah maintained.

"If I meet your brother, he dies. I can't meet him. I just can't, Leah. I promise to—"

"Shush, Sera," Leah interrupted while caressing her cheeks. "You can't promise that. I love my brother, but I love you, too. I know that one day you two will meet, and it'll be magical. Nothing will ever separate you two. Nothing. Not even death."

Sera swallowed thickly, irises shining and scintillating with unshed tears.

It was silent but comforting; it was alleviating. It was rejuvenating.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

I would also like to thank my guest reviewer for that nice review! Thank you so much!

I hope this chapter shows a bit more about Seraphina's life. Also, I just recently started the sequel to Feverish Dreamer, and I have no idea what to name it, but I'm pretty excited about it!

Constructive criticism is welcomed!

I will update in two days!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: _Micah_

The sweet symphony of childish giggles, intermixed with deep, reverberating guffaws, erupted from the center of the garden. Intrigued, she wandered forward with her fingertips instinctively stroking the rose petals weaving up the handles; she entangled her fingers, stroking and skimming and slowly detangling herself. As she descended, her ankles briefly grazed the daisies and peonies slithering upward. Contented, she moved forward and, after shrouding herself, she caught a glimpse of a prancing child with a healthy complexion, dotted with freckles, and expressive cobalt irises.

The budding beauty bounced, playfully swatting the butterflies that skimmed her cheekbones, expelling their light onto her visage and enlightening her further. Delighted, she giggled and skipped forward, savoring the sensation of the moving flowers; she blew on the dandelions, dancing and frolicking with the delicate wisps and the lively butterflies.

She was beautiful. A vision. _Innocent_.

When a masculine shadow appeared beside her, she simply swiveled and faced the familiar figure with the signature raven locks, active yet inquisitive eyes, which were an exquisite shade of azure, tan complexion, dotted solely by minuscule freckles and enhanced by dimples.

"Micah," she whispered, lips widening and broadening. Instinctively, she engulfed him and reveled in the sound of his deep chuckles, in the sensation of his arms enfolding her, in the feeling of his chest rebounding and vibrating from his laughter, and in the brotherly aurora he emanated.

"It's been a very long time since I last saw you. You should visit more often," he joshed, eliciting brief giggles. "I hope you're doing well, Leah. How are you feeling?"

"Confused most of the time, but it's manageable. Or at least, I'm managing it well, or as well as I can," she commented mindlessly, causing him to pat her shoulders.

"Everything will be cleared soon. But in the meantime, don't be afraid to rely on us. We'll help you with anything and everything. Don't be afraid to ask," he recited. She wordlessly expressed her gratitude by squeezing and promptly releasing him.

"Is she your daughter?"

"She is," he said before beckoning her forward and simpering when his daughter bounded forward and latched herself onto Leah.

"You're Leah, aren't you?" she inquired rhetorically. "You're so pretty!"

"Angelique, this is Leah—but of course, you know that. And Leah, this is Angelique, my daughter," Micah introduced; his voice sweetened and softened significantly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Angelique. You're such a lovely, little girl," Leah cooed. Angelique blushed, head bowing, eyes glistening with mirth, cheeks broadening with joy.

"Thank you," she responded with bashfulness. "But you're so beautiful. So strong."

"Thank you," Leah repeated while poking her sides and inciting her to giggle.

"Angelique, Demetria and Cyrena are waiting for you," Micah reminded.

Delighted, Angelique, with her auburn tendrils whipping behind her, dashed forward, ascending the staircase and plucking a fistful of peonies; she sprinted toward the entrance with her heels nearly hovering above the ground, with her toes firmly planted on the floor, and with her enchanting smile increasing in strength. The guards greeted her pleasantly, unwillingly simpering when she handed them their fair share of peonies.

"She's so lovely, just like—"

"Alma," he interrupted as he trailed behind his daughter. "She's just like her. She looks like her. She does everything like her. But the only difference is—"

"That she is a lot more open," Leah intercepted fondly. "Aramis was much more open and willing, while Alma was extremely friendly, but it always took her a while to fully embrace new situations. Together, they created a beautiful child."

Beneath the surface, his irises were overshadowed by his trepidations, clouded and dimmed by his inner darkness. But it instantly evaporated. His irises ignited with glee and tenderness when his daughter returned, latching herself onto Micah and Leah; she chattered and tittered and enlivened them with her high spirits.

It was enlightening; it was enlivening.

* * *

Dark shadows protruded from his ghastly complexion, which consistently gathered perspiration produced from his worsening condition; he heaved, coughing and spitting but ultimately shrouding his true sentiments by circling his cell and maintaining a stoic expression. His knees nearly buckled from his lack of strength; his frame shriveled slightly when he wandered forward and wobbled but quickly steadied himself. Sniffling, he hacked and spat but covered his tracks by slowly swiveling and eyeing their forms. With his drastic weight loss, his sunken eyes, his wasted appearance, he resembled a pitiful creature, but when he focused on her rigid figure, he leered, reminding her of his younger self. Gradually, his gaze switched, moving onto Micah, who merely sauntered forward and stared.

Wordlessly, he entered the interrogation center, boring his eyes onto the being who jeered and slithered forward. Without hesitating, the two looked at each other, although Calder shook terribly. His shoulders hunched over, and his eyes unwillingly shed tears. Calder convulsed momentarily before stopping, wheezing, heaving and moving forward with his elbows planted on the table. Clearing his throat, Calder attracted Micah's unwavering attention, temporarily piquing his interest.

"Happy?" Calder questioned.

"Elaborate if you want an answer," Micah responded; his voice strong and steady, deep and eerily soothing.

"Are you happy to see me in these conditions?" Calder clarified, chuckling under his breath and raising his eyebrows.

"Why would it make me happy, Calder?"

He stayed silent, glowering and glaring but ultimately lowering the intensity of his stare.

"Why would it make me happy, Calder?" Micah repeated; his voice becoming chiller but frightfully soothing and coaxing.

"Other than the fact that I plotted the start of your demise by giving private information to your enemies?" Calder taunted. "I'm sure anyone in your position would practically salivate at the sight of me—defenseless, vulnerable, dirty and practically rolling in my waste."

"You're disappointed," Micah declared; his irises became steely, chilly but coaxing, soothing to the extreme but with an underlying threatening edge. "You were expecting me to be outraged. To fight. To do anything. But I didn't. And I'm not going to."

"Even though I'm the one who tipped them off, even though I'm the one who gave them everything they needed for them to infiltrate your kingdom, arrive undetected, kidnap you and Alma and Aramis and torture and kill them right in front of you," Calder mocked, infuriated. "You really didn't care for them. You really didn't. You probably don't even care about the runt either."

"I've already gotten my revenge," Micah stated idly, without any emotion. "And I've learned over the years that everyone has a backstory. Everyone. Including yourself."

Calder laughed humorlessly, bitterly, sorrowfully.

"And you're confused—stuck between feeling angry and insane and bitter. Your mother died at our hands. Or so the story goes. But I'm sure you learned long ago what really happened. Your father raised you, kindling your hatred toward us. But we liberated you. Or so we thought. Your mate's life falls into your hands, and you failed her. And it tortures you—more than you let on—because it shows that you've become your father. Heartless. Emotionless," Micah proclaimed. "Everything in between has kindled your self-hatred."

Calder stayed silent, sulking and grieving, decaying and decomposing.

* * *

While suffocating, she spread her legs, lengthening her distance and promptly stepped forward to the right. She moved her arm over, wrapped her arm around his hands, and quickly elbowed him with her free arm. Sighing, she hopped backwards, but he rapidly ensnared her in a back chokehold. With her legs spread out, she stepped around and used her opposite arm to trap his hands; she faced her assailant before punching and elbowing and kicking his knees.

Smiling, she righted him, wheezing slightly when he environed her.

"You've learned so much," Alcander praised. "You've gotten your anger under control."

"And you've gotten your butt kicked three times in a row now," Leah boosted, laughing when he nudged her and messed her hair.

"You've progressed wonderfully," Ly complimented, irises flickering.

"Which means that I can fight now with all of you," Leah interjected. "I really feel like I can help."

"And if you wish to do so, there's nothing stopping you," Adara responded.

"Just be careful, Leah. We can't lose you," Drakon asserted; his voice was faint and fluctuating.

"I'll be careful, just as long as everyone else is," Leah promised seriously.

"We will be," Carabelle answered before sliding forward, engulfing her, and planting delicate kisses on her cheeks. "Well, I'm tired, so I'm going to bed. Goodnight, everyone!"

After bidding her farewells, she leisurely walked across the training center, ascended, and, when she detected two presences, she casually rounded the corner and simply riveted the pair with a flourishing beam. Giggling, the budding beauty bounded forward, latching herself into her father's legs and simpering, with her head thrown back and her hands fisting his pants; he roared before plucking her from his legs and swinging her around, causing her cheeks to redden with glee. While hooting with laughter, she extended her appendages and shrieked with festivity when he suddenly pivoted around and softly flung her onto her platform. He tickled her, chuckling before suddenly stopping and tucking her underneath her covers. His smile widened when he noticed her, signaling and beckoning her forward.

"Leah!" Angelique exclaimed with excitement. "Can you read me a bedtime story? Daddy usually does it, but I want you to—if you can."

"Of course," Leah amended.

"Can you read me 'A Feverish Dreamer?'" Angelique inquired with her irises widening and dilating with innocence. "I've never read it before. And I really want to. Please."

"Leah, you don't have to—"

"No, no, it's fine," Leah rectified. "I'll read it. I don't remember it at all. It would be nice to know what I wrote about."

After retrieving it, she seated herself in front of Angelique, who listened tentatively with her head lying on her father's shoulders, with her hands clasped and her eyes wide with anticipation.

"It was twilight. And the darkness rapidly approached, changing the previously light atmosphere with despair and ambiguity, quickly morphing the beauty of daylight with harsh, brutal shadows which extended their fingers along the sides and sought new, vulnerable prey. I sat, waiting, with my heart beating and my fingers shaking. It was time. My head lulled to the side; my breaths became shallower and shallower until I finally appeared on the other side. It was beautiful but dangerous. The branches swayed; the bushes rustled; the footsteps neared me. I ran. It was time. He was coming.

"The darkness captured me, and I screamed. I rolled back and tried to fight, but I knew I couldn't do anything. I prayed and prayed and prayed. And suddenly, my prayers were heard. The darkness vanished. A sudden radiance erupted from the heart of the forest, and I fell unconscious.

"When I woke up, I thought I was in a fairy tale. It sounds silly, but that's exactly what I thought. The room was beautiful with lavender walls and silver details. The sheets were so silky; they practically slipped from my fingers. I had books of every kind and, being the nerd that I am, I loved that. Suddenly, a young girl with bright, blue eyes and blonde curls appeared. She was incredibly sweet and bright; she was practically bouncing the entire time. I laugh as I write this because she's always bouncing around. I didn't want to leave. I loved it there, but she told me I could come back if I wanted to. And I did want to. I really wanted to.

"When I went back, I thought everything was just a dream. I went to school and saw them. Them being my ex best friends. I don't really know what happened. One day, we were friends—laughing and joking and pushing each other around. And the next, we were strangers—barely glancing at each other as we passed through the halls. It might've been because I skipped a grade. It might've been because I didn't have lunch with them anymore. It might've been—well, it could've been anything. But we were best friends, and I missed them. I wonder if they missed me, too.

"My classmates didn't really understand me. To be honest, I barely understood myself half the time. Those nightmares tore me apart. They made me look dead. I had dark shadows underneath my eyes, which were practically lifeless and dim. They made feel dead. I could barely sleep or talk. I guess that could have driven them away, too. My classmates taunted me. They didn't understand that their words felt as if they were plunging knives deep inside my chest. I went home crying, wishing, hoping, praying that I could return. And I did. Thank the Heavens that I did.

"I saw her again. Her sweet, smiling face and sparkly, cerulean eyes. She made me feel normal but special—if that makes any sense. Her name was Carabelle or Cara. It means 'my dear, God's promise, beloved, and friend.' She definitely embodied that. She brought me to the garden, where I saw flowers I couldn't even begin to describe. We danced with the dandelions, which sounds pretty cliché—but it's a good cliché, I promise. I found a Gladiolus that changed into pure glass, which means I'm a dreamer. I like the sound of that. My head's pretty much in the clouds anyway. And she brought me to her family. Her mom, Adara or Dara, immediately hugged me and made me feel welcome. Adara means 'fire and beautiful.' And she was beautiful (inside and out), and she was incredibly fiery. She had this air around her that sparked and blazed with life; she had this glisten in her eyes that roared with spirit. I met Ly, whose name means argonaut. He was an adventurous person—a brave soul who plunged head deep into danger for something or someone that he loved. He reminded me of my dad.

"And then I met him. Drakon. Dragon. But he was anything but a dragon. In one word, he was adorable. He made me laugh the second that I met him. It sounds mean as I write that, but he truly made me laugh like I had never before. He stumbled right into me and stammered, which me laugh and made him blush. I immediately liked him. He was adorable when he constantly stammered, when he constantly glanced up at me, when he constantly blushed and looked down when I caught him staring. I really liked him. I still like him.

"Adara gave me an impromptu ballet lesson. Before that, I had only ever watched it on TV. I asked my parents once, but La Push doesn't have any ballet studios, and we didn't have the money for it. Adara showed me how to stretch and balance before showing me more. I thought it was enlivening, especially when Drakon and Cara danced beside me. And then we got pretty silly and started dancing like crazy people, which suited me just fine. Who doesn't like to have fun? When I started getting tired, I knew it was time for me to leave, but I didn't want to. I felt like I belonged there, which sounds really bad, considering that my parents were in the other realm. I loved my parents. I just wished we could live here—where no one would ever make fun of me for being me. For being strange.

"I think my parents noticed a change. It had only been a day, but I already felt different. I felt alive. I had that gleam, that spirit, that drive again. They smiled all day long, and I smiled all day long. That morning, I saw them. I smiled at them, and I think they were shocked, but they smiled anyway. Sam nearly tripped. Paul gaped. Rebecca and Rachel slapped their backs and waved. Jared grinned. It felt different. A good different. That night, I returned and met them—some of the most important people in my life.

"They were all pretty different but soothing. They soothed me with their incessant chatter and reassurances, with their feathery touches and pleasant hugs, with their booming laughs and teasing, with their devotion and affection. I met Alcander, Cara's soul mate. I instantly noticed how different the two were, but how they matched each other. He was shy and quiet, but he was willing to do anything Cara proposed to him. The other day, she wanted to cliff dive from the highest levels. She was so excited that she kept jumping and pulling us along. And poor Alcander! He looked white, and he kept shaking with fear. That was when I learned that he was deathly afraid of heights. He could barely climb up the path, but Cara noticed and stopped. She smiled at him and hugged him before whispering something in his ears. He blushed, looking red and sweaty. His name means strong, and I think he was strong. Maybe not psychically, but he was strong enough to try to face his fears for Cara. Of course, she tugged us all the way back to the bottom, which I didn't mind. Drakon nearly tripped along the way, but I grabbed him just in time and held his hand. He turned red but didn't let go.

"I met Artemisia, whose name means 'Artemis' gift and perfection.' I know it's probably strange to include the meanings of their names, but I've always felt like they played a part in the person's lives. Strange, but that's just the way I think. Anyway, Artemisia had this brilliant idea to play a game she invented. Note the slight sarcasm. Well, it seemed harmless enough at first. It was a medieval game with fake swords and weapons. It helped with our practices; we got to train and use whatever we learned so far, but we wouldn't hurt each other. See, harmless. It was girls against boys. We had to capture the flag from the other side. Cara, Acacia and I had to defend the flag. I think the adults thought it was funny, since they sat down and kept pointing at the nervous boys. When the whistle sounded, everything turned chaotic. Nico charged with his sword before Delia tackled him to the ground and took the ribbon from his waist. That was how a player got eliminated. Nico was shocked, but he got up gladly when Delia leaned down and kissed his forehead. She pretty much towered over him, but I thought it was adorable. Somehow, Drakon, Alcander and Cas found our flag, but they waited a few feet away. I saw them sweating. And then they lunged. I tackled Drakon and put my knees on his chest, but his hands flew towards my waist. Immediately, I rolled him to the side, but he flexed his torso and kept us rolling away. He somehow landed on top and grabbed my wrists, so I wouldn't take his ribbon away. I really didn't want to lose, so I smiled at him and pointed out how weird it felt to be in that position. That did it. He started blushing and stammering to the point where I managed to roll on top of him and grab his ribbon. He groaned but grinned, but his smile got wider when I kissed his nose.

"And then it happened. Acastus grabbed the flag, while Acacia fought with Alcander. It all seemed like it happened in a second. Artemis burst from the trees and unsheathed her bows and arrows. They were the play ones, though. At least, that was what we all thought. She targeted Cas and let the arrow go. Acastus screamed when the arrow went through his arm. We thought he was joking, but then we saw the blood pouring from arm. Artemisia shrieked and ran towards him; she kept apologizing, but he grimaced and told her it was alright. We screamed, but those screams mixed in with the other ones. Gwendolyn burst into the field with the flag in her hand. The parents came and laughed until they saw the blood. Asteria, Artemis' mom, came over and removed it. Acastus tried not to cry, but it didn't work, and Artemis kept apologizing. She didn't know that she grabbed the wrong ones. Cas kept saying it was alright, even after Delia healed him. He said he was as good as new and tried showing her that he didn't have anything there anymore. She felt really bad, though; she could barely look into his eyes without flinching with shame. The entire night passed like that until he talked to her alone. When they came back, they looked better. She could finally look at him and smile, which was really what he wanted in the first place. He joked that she was really competitive, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Acastus means argonaut. I think his name fit him. He definitely was adventurous, but I felt like his name really didn't do him much justice. I love how it sounds, but I feel like he had so many other characteristics that his name left out. He was fiercely protective of anyone he considered his friend and loved; he constantly consoled others, like when he comforted Artemisia about the accident. But what really stuck out to me was when he found me in the Hole. The Hole was literally a hole in a clearing. It was near the outskirts, but it wasn't too far away. There were beautiful, wild flowers all around. We discovered this after Drakon literally fell through it one time. It became our spot. Inside, it was anything but just a simple hole. It was a cavern with glittering walls and Stoney floors. We loved it so much that we brought pillows and blankets and anything that we wanted from our rooms into the cavern. We even brought lights. Of course, the adults knew where it was, and they always made sure that at least three people were guarding it. But it was still our space. Our escape. Our heaven. The last time I cried there was when I told Cara about what my parents thought about them. This time, I cried because I realized that they wanted to do something. I could tell. I knew they would. I heard them planning of ways to do it. Cas was there, and he reassured me the entire time that it wouldn't happen. He kept promising to do something about it; he kept making plans of somehow convincing my parents about their intentions. He wondered if bringing them here would make a difference. And when he finished his promises, he made jokes. They weren't that funny, but it was the thought behind them that really made a difference. I saw him cry, and it made my heart clench because I didn't want to leave behind my family. They were my family.

"I met Acacia, whose name means 'immortality, honorable and resurrection.' She truly was an honorable person. I remember that we went to the City Square and got ice cream. There was another little girl there; she was probably three with little pigtails and big, brown eyes. Her ice cream fell, and instantly Acacia swooped down and gave her a new one—her ice cream. The little girl looked so grateful and hugged her before skipping off to her mom, who mouthed 'thank you' to Acacia. I split mine with Acacia, who smiled after the little girl. She always did things like that; she always put everyone in front of herself. I know Acacia will be a great ruler in the future: strong, brave, honorable, fair. I know they all will be.

"Admes means 'Earth and Adam's son.' He was a great pranker; he knew a lot about the land and used that to his advantage. I remember that we went to the beach, and he covered the mudslide with sand. To this day, I have no idea how he managed that, but he did. He somehow tricked Charmaine into walking inside of it. And, to put it lightly, she was furious. The mud stuck to her skin and her hair. It took such a long time to get it out, and Admes apologized, but she was out for revenge. Ironically, Charmaine means 'angel of harmony.' She was anything but harmonious when Mes fell asleep on the sand and she put a crab in his pants. It sounds pretty harsh, but she made sure that the crab wouldn't hurt him. Just freak him out. Being a Siren definitely has its ups. He definitely woke up surprised and screaming. Charmaine couldn't help but laugh at him the entire time, which made him pout later on. When he realized it wouldn't hurt him, he tried removing it, but it wouldn't leave. He thought removing it in the water would be better, and it was, but it also removed his pants. Those waves sure are traitorous. He was so embarrassed when he realized he didn't have his pants anymore, and Charmaine finally told the adults about it. They tried not to laugh, but it didn't work. Poor Admes, but he should know better than to prank Charmaine.

"Aristo means 'great.' Of course, Lailah would ask, 'Great at what?' And he would say, 'At everything.' And then she would dare him to do something so ridiculous that would make him gulp but nod. He would always follow through with the dares, except for that one time. At the City Square, there was a cute, little, old lady who squinted and always offered us cookies. Well, she had this poor, previously beaten dog that had fangs and always growled at Aristo. I think the dog, Fluffy, started hating him after he mistakenly ate one of his dog treats. Well, Lailah told him to go kiss the dog. Just a peck. That was all she needed for him to prove that he was so great and mighty like he always said. He accepted and was pretty confident until that dog roared when he neared him. The little old lady, Caroline, just said, 'Down, Fluffy.' And Fluffy glared at him from afar. Aristo gulped and went to the kitchen to get the cookies, while Caroline smiled knowingly and crept slowly towards the kitchen. She was an amazingly humorous person, and she instantly knew Lailah had something to do with it. When we looked, Aristo was cautiously nearing the poor dog, who suddenly launched himself at him and tackled him to the ground. Aristo screamed—very high-pitched, I might add—and crawled away from the dog. Of course, it wouldn't bite him, but he didn't know that. Caroline said, 'Down, Fluffy.' And everyone laughed—except for Aristo, who continued shaking with fear and saying that it was a demon dog. Lailah, being Lailah, went up to Fluffy and pecked it. Aristo crossed his arms and pouted at her, which started another argument. Or discussion. Discussion sounds better.

"He said, 'At least my name means great and not angel of conception.' Serves to say that Lailah put Fluffy on the floor and let him bound after Aristo again. She stuck her tongue out and walked right out of the room. But they never had any bad feelings between them. They always joked about everything they did afterwards. I know Aristo just did everything to impress her, even though she didn't realize it. He had a big crush on her, even though she most likely hadn't even noticed it yet.

"Micah means 'angel of miracles.' I heard from Allegra and Cedric, his parents, that they named him that because he was a miracle. Apparently, she had been struck in the stomach and started bleeding immediately. She honestly thought she would lose him, but she didn't. He was born immediately after, but he healthy and wanted to live. Because of that, he was their little miracle. As I write this, he sits right in front of me, reading and occasionally looking up and making sure that I'm okay. He looks up and stares at his younger sisters and then the rest of them. He smiles and looks back down, and I'm suddenly struck by how much he feels like an older brother. I have a younger one, but having an older one feels like a different experience. I like it. The other day, we wanted to play tea parties, and he was the first one to sign up for that. He even dressed up with the pretty, blue dress we wanted him to wear; he even convinced the adults to join us. He talked very posh, which made us all laugh, and stuck his pinky up in the air in an exaggerated way. And he made everything perfect.

"Evangeline means 'angel of good news.' In case you haven't noticed, all of them have angel names, so I asked Cedric and Allegra about it. Allegra said that she wanted to keep the tradition of picking a theme and sticking with it. But Cedric winked and said, 'She's so worried that the kids will be exactly like her when she was younger, so she thought giving them angelic names would balance out her wild genes.' Allegra, of course, slapped his arm and laughed. 'I was a pretty wild and out of control child,' she agreed, smirking. 'I dyed his hair blue once. And maybe even the entire town.' I thought it was sweet and funny, so I nudged Eva, who giggled and shook her head. She was very sweet, but she had a streak of discreetly pulling pranks, especially on the three that she labeled 'The Three Musketeers.' Eva definitely took tips from Allegra because she dyed Alistair's hair bright green and then put the powder on Damien's hands; she then put the actual ingredients inside Radley's room and giggled with us afterwards. In the morning, Alistair screamed and ran into Damien's room, where Damien was confused over his hands. After accusing each other, they went to Radley's room, where he was holding the ingredients and somehow smiling. So they took that to mean that he did it. Until they saw us peeking at them. 'Eva!' Alistair shouted before grabbing her and spinning her around in a circle. 'Sorry!' she screamed before kissing his cheeks and holding onto his neck. He obviously forgave her after that, and his two friends started making smooching noises, which Eva thought were hilarious and Alistair thought were embarrassing. I knew Alistair loved her, even though they were so young; he would probably try something as soon as they were older, and I knew that Eva would be beyond thrilled because she obviously loved him back. She always looked so happy—so breathless—around him. Kind of like with me and Drakon. I really like him, but I know I'll probably have to do the first move when we grow up, which I don't mind. Who says a girl can't go after what she wants?

"The Three Musketeers were Radley, Damien and Alistair. They were always together. Always inseparable. Really, they were more like clowns, always embarrassing each other and making us all laugh until our stomachs burst. But separately, they were all great boys. Radley means 'from the red meadow,' which he said made sense because his mother suddenly gave birth to him in a meadow full of red roses; he said he popped out right in front of their at least ten other people and almost on top of the green beans. It was a picnic apparently, and he thought it was a great time to come into the world and eat some of his grandma's world famous potato salad. He cracked me up. He was always making ridiculous jokes and pick-up lines. Everytime he saw me, he would have a new one, and I would always respond back with my own. Once he dared me to go to Drakon and say, 'Is your daddy a Baker? Because you've got some nice buns!' I couldn't stop laughing just thinking about it, but I somehow managed to stop and go up to Drakon, who blushed the darkest color I had ever seen him turn. Radley nearly peed himself. He was such a riot.

"Damien means 'to tame.' Radley asked him once, 'To tame what?' And Damien said, "To tame you obviously.' Damien was always willing to do everything in his power to make others feel happy. I remember that he was the one who found Fluffy. We were playing hide-and-seek, and he stumbled across the beaten dog. He was bleeding really badly, so Radley screamed for help and took off his shirt; he cleaned the wounds and waited for Delia, who managed to heal the wounds. The scars still stayed, though, but Damien was relieved that the poor dog was okay. He was always like that. Always so self sacrificing and willing to do what was right.

"Of course, there was Alistair, whose name means 'defender of men.' I mean, at this age, all he pretty much defended was us from tripping really. I'm sure that he'll be something great in the future. For now, he protected Sera's stuffed animals and played rescue with her, where he was the damsel in distress and she was the valiant knight. Gets a crack out of all of us.

"And there's Seraphina, whose name means 'fiery angel.' I think her name should mean angel of sweetness or happiness because she never does anything wrong. I think the only time that name applies is when Radley eats one of her cookies and she kicks him in the groin. 'Next time don't eat my cookie,' she says every time. He pretty much expects that from her, so he ducks now, but he wasn't very luck the first five times or so. She reminded me a lot about my brother. I always teased her that she was my sister, but I do mean it, and I hope one day she can become my sister. I would love that.

"Nicodemus means 'victory of the people.' He obviously used his name all the time to point out that he was a winner in everything, but obviously Delia was always there to put him back into place. I'm pretty sure she let him win at chess that one time, but she only smiled and shook her head when he roared with happiness. Truth is, Nicodemus stinks at games; he can't ever win. He's almost always the first to go out, but Delia makes sure he wins once in awhile. I think that's sweet. I think the clearest memory that I have from the two of them is when the carnival came around. At the City Square, the carnival attracted a huge crowd of people, and Nico really wanted to win a stuffed animal for Delia. It was a unicorn. She kept telling him it was okay, but he kept trying and trying. Until the guy at the stand stomped his foot just as Nico shoot the ball. The plastic cups came crashing down, and he won the unicorn for him. She laughed and thanked him, and the guy at the stand winked at her.

"Delia means 'goddess of fire and poetry.' She had a very fiery personality; she could be very light and sweet, but she could also flare up. One day, we went to the infirmary, and we noticed that it was bare. We all decided to paint it, and we spent the entire day painting it until it looked cheery and bright. Delia spent her free time volunteering at the infirmary, and she always read to the little kids and helped them draw; she always put their drawings around and kissed their cheeks. She had a passion for helping. Her eyes always lit up; her smile always brightened her face.

"Gwendolyn means 'fair and blessed.' Gwendolyn always put a smile on my face, especially when she purposefully teased Alcander in front of Cara. I know that she really loves their friendship and can't wait for the day she's sisters with Cara. But what really strikes me about Gwendolyn is that she loves wolves. They're extremely rare here, but we went to the Populus Fusca kingdom and waited until midnight. There, with her parents, we sat underneath the cover of trees and watched small, graceful wolves walk into the clearing. The moonlight illuminated them as they howled and sniffed the air. One walked to where we were, and Gwen immediately patted its snout. I froze but watched as the wolf uncharacteristically nuzzled against her. She giggled and said, 'This one is my favorite. I named him Henry.' I raised an eyebrow. 'I liked Henry,' she said defensively. And Alcander chimed in, 'Just be glad it's Henry and not Roy, which is what she wanted first.' I shook her head, smiled and hesitantly touched the wolf. It was russet-colored with big, brown eyes that looked soft but aware. 'He's very pretty, isn't he?' And he really was.

"Alma means 'spirit, good, and loving.' She was probably the sweetest person I knew; she was extremely gentle and compassionate. She had the patience of a saint and a great heart that loved greatly. Whenever I came back feeling disappointed, she always grabbed my hands and pressed me against her chest into one of the warmest hugs ever; she kissed my forehead and then retracted to wipe away any tears if I had any. Then, she brought me to the kitchen and made me hot chocolate and just let me talk it out. She never judged me, and she always gave me the best advice ever. She was older than the rest of us—around fourteen years old. I think what I remember the best though was when she threw herself into a house that caught fire to help bring the child trapped in there. Her arm caught fire, but she didn't care, and she managed to bring the toddler back. She definitely inspires me.

"Aramis means 'ambitious and religious.' Immediately, anyone could see that he was deeply in love with Alma, and they're probably one of the best couples I've ever seen. They're not into PDA, but you can just tell by looking at their eyes and their smiles and their intertwined hands that they're in love. It's probably one of the purest I've seen. Aramis is the type of person who's outgoing and suddenly grabs you and twirls you around in a circle; he's the type of person who loves dancing in the rain and makes you want to get up and do something; he's the type of person who expresses everything that he feels and listens to you as you pour your heart out; he's the type of person who loves life and wants to do everything to the fullest and doesn't take no for an answer. He completed Alma, who was timid but sweet. He made her relax when she was stressed; he massaged her shoulders and carried her bridal-style outside and spun her around and around until she yelled with joy. He made her come out of her shell and jump headfirst into something that she'd wanted to do but didn't know if she could. He was brave, especially when some bad people came in and tried to hurt us. He stepped in front of us and defended us. Him and Alma. Our protectors.

"I really love them. I love everyone I've written about. I love everyone that I haven't written about but know that'll eventually write about. Everyone holds a little piece of my heart."

"It's beautiful," Angelique said before yawning. "I'm happy mommy and daddy loved you. I love you, Leah."

"Goodnight, Angelique, my little angel. And I love you, too," she breathed before caressing the sides of her face.

"Goodnight, baby girl. Sweet dreams," Micah recited, kissing her forehead.

Angelique tossed once but remained undisturbed and reposed.

"Thank you, Leah," Micah rehearsed. "I know that your life has been hard, and I know that reading that must've brought memories—"

"Good ones," she interjected. "They're good ones. I'm sure the rest of the book has darker memories, and I'm sure I'll find the good in them, but I'll wait. I'll finish when I'm ready. And Micah, I know your life hasn't been easy at all. If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here."

"And the same goes for me," he asserted. "I always considered you a younger sister, Leah. And, even though you probably don't remember me too well, I still consider you one, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

Without warning, he engulfed her, patting her shoulders and closing his eyes tightly; she returned his embrace, sighing and snuggling with him.

 _It was time_.

* * *

Hello, everyone! Thank you for reading!

Thank you, brankel1, for reviewing!

To Ash, is there a reason why you're even reading my story if you don't like it? You can leave. No one is tying you down. There's a difference between leaving constructive criticism and leaving negative comments. If these 60 chapters will be boring and confusing, feel free to leave. Actually, if you didn't like any of my chapters, why didn't you leave earlier? At the end of the day, I write for myself—and if I feel proud about something that I write, then everything else does not matter. Goodbye, Ash. Have a great day. I hope you don't stumble right into my confusing and boring story and stories again.

Next chapter will be action-packed!

Everyone else, I will update in two days!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: _A Bitter Victory_

Leah surged forward when gut-wrenching growls sounded, followed closely by ear-splitting roars and outcries. Dauntlessly, she shot forward, accompanying Carabelle, who barreled forward and blinded them with her gift. Screeching, her victims plunged to the ground, pawing their eyes before crawling and shrilling when their bodies crumpled from the persistent pounding on their burned eyes; their soldiers quickly trampled them, killing them. As she whizzed by, a turbulent tide of raving barbarians with blazing irises breached their defenses, pillaging and plundering and plucking soldiers with vexation. After recognizing her presence, a smaller group of beasts separated from the group and raced, with feverish enthusiasm, towards her. Speedily, she seized the first man and spun him around but not before pinning his hands to his back; she promptly snapped his neck before flinging him onto the ground.

Leah stared at the carcass on the ground beneath her. Very deliberately, she stomped on his neck, smearing his blood onto the grass. With anger poisoning them, the group lunged as one, allowing her to speed forward and punch their leader; she battered him, punched him, and trampled him. When two managed to seize her—one from behind and one from the front—she stepped forward, then placed her arms over his hands, which allowed her to spin around and kick his groin. Pivoting, she brought him along and smacked the two together before delivering the final blow to their temples. When two more raced towards her, she sidekicked the first's throat; she zoomed past the fallen rebel and walloped his partner. Slightly weakened but riled, the rebel growled and stood his ground. Using her speed to her advantage, she tore towards him but ducked his blow and swept his legs; she tackled him and, without hesitating, snapped his neck.

When she rejoined the main battle, she caught a glimpse of Nicodemus sailing through the crowd. Once his fingers grazed the rebel's shoulders, their pupils instantly dilated and glazed over. Nico manipulated his lucid hallucinations, distracting them completely. Their forces swept in and killed them. His delusions grew stronger, misleading them to the point where they became paranoid of their own forces and slaughtered each other. While emanating an unearthly glow, Delia slid forward, blinding and incapacitating and even draining their adversaries of their strength. She eased through the crowd, avoiding the rebels flying around her.

With unwavering determination, Artemisia shot the multitude of quaking, shrilling creatures. When they surged forwards, she used her ability, which instantly controlled their twisted minds. They stopped and stared. Their troops swarmed them, eliminating them. Diligently, Acastus strangled and suffocated those who neared Artemisia. The rebels around them became lethargic. Their heads lulled to the side, their eyelids drooped, and their respiration suddenly stopped. Their troops stomped on them, flooding their territory.

Aristo trespassed their mental barriers and focused on their weaknesses; he fragmented their minds, driving them to insanity. Their troops quickly murdered them, but the ones who managed to escape experienced severe pain. They plunged to the ground and held their heads. Aristo demolished their minds, causing them to topple over, stares blank and mouths wide open with muted screams. Charmeine conjured lovely images of their mates or future soul mates, which distracted them. Suddenly, she contorted the visions, forcing them to become dark and nostalgic. Lailah quickly killed them before tapping into their heads and forcing them to kill their comrades.

Acacia led part of their troops. They burst through the remaining layers and annihilated the flock, who had encircled her but had quickly fled when she immobilized them.

A swarm of ravenous rebels congregated around Admes and pounced on him. Deliriously, they tore through his flesh, ripped pieces of his skin, and spat on his withering frame. Joyously, they receded. Leah materialized behind them, pinching their pressure points, stomping on their temples, and skewering them with calculated swiftness. The rebels exhaled sharply when Admes regenerated and swept the remaining critters, who instantly catapulted themselves in his direction; he captured a twisted individual, fractured his spine, swept him from side-to-side, and maimed his comrades with his frame. With flickering irises, he serrated their flesh and delivered the final, deathly blow; he tugged Leah towards the heat of the battle, where Micah, Drakon and his father fought, back-to-back. They shielded Seraphina and Gwendolyn, who both used their abilities to lower their mental defenses and create the loveliest visions.

Leah prodded the sinewy beast who thrust Alcander against several trees; she clamped her hands on his shoulders and dislocated them. With her serrated teeth, she punctured his flesh and, when his distracted comrades darted forwards, she snapped his neck. Alcander manipulated the shadows, inviting them to enter their minds and infiltrate their barriers. The shadows destroyed their minds with their darkness, dislodging their beings onto the rebels, who became incapacitated. Without warning, Alcander shielded her with his body, hiding her eyes with his torso.

When he unveiled the battlefield, the majority of the rebels had fallen, with their irises blackened, with their flesh falling, with their chests completely disintegrated. Gulping, she chanced a glance at Drakon, whose face was completely devoid of color and drained of energy. He stumbled before wheezing with relief when Delia hastened forward and returned his strength. Mirroring their actions, Leah trailed behind Ly and entered the military base stationed at the outskirts of one of their conquered kingdoms; she briefly scanned Drakon, who searched the base for any stray rebels. Without any reluctance, Seraphina, along with Acacia and Gwendolyn, manned the technology. They entered their systems and scanned their databases for useful information.

"They've deleted the majority of their information—or so it seems," Gwendolyn proclaimed, eyebrows furrowed.

"They didn't have enough time to delete everything, and since everyone either fled or joined the fight, then the information should still be here," Acacia declared.

"And here it is," Seraphina stated. "They deleted the non-confidential information first and thought that if we found nothing, that we wouldn't continue, but now we've discovered their main source. All we need is the password—"

Leah rocketed forwards when familiar, menacing murmurs snaked forwards. Fearlessly, she traveled forwards and guarded Seraphina, whose fingers flew across the keyboard and whose eyes trailed the codes on the screen. A familiar repressive haze emerged, slithering forward with the intention of poisoning her. It brushed her ankles, nearly possessing her. Unwillingly, she shrieked but ultimately straightened and summoned her strength.

Another, more liberating cloud of darkness assaulted the obscurity, which gradually evaporated. With her chest rumbling, she spun around and surveyed Drakon, who nodded but frowned. A stalwart frame emerged, simpering maliciously when her eyes widened. Dauntlessly, he moved forward, evading Drakon's expectant hands.

"You're in a prison cell," she stated; her voice strong and steady. He smirked, marching forward with newfound determination.

"But you're not," he whispered.

Instantly, he morphed, becoming leaner and shorter with polished, straight tendrils, with plump lips completed with gloss, long, fluttering eyelashes, which framed almond-shaped eyes the color of mocha.

"Or are you," she murmured as she walked forwards.

Leah swallowed hard, fingers twitching, hands shaking, shouldering racking with suppressed frustration.

 _It was her_. It was her younger self—the one who everyone had approved of and loved and cherished and praised highly, the one who had organized church events and collected donations for the less fortunate, the one who had participated in students events, the one who had run for president and won it, the one who had fallen in love and dated Sam Uley, the boy who had promised her everything and more.

"Imprisoned by yourself, stuck between your old self and your new self, constantly fighting with your own feelings, consistently loathing yourself, which is your biggest problem—not the fact that your ex-fiancé decided to get rid of you for your cousin. It's you. You're the problem. And in more ways than one. You know why he didn't imprint on you. You're ruined. You can't even do your service as a woman. You—"

Riled, Leah walloped and crescent kicked her but, when she began to punch her, she squatted down. Her greedy, expectant hands ensnared her throat and pressed her pressure points; her hands settled over her jugular and lacerated her neck, but Leah rapidly bent her wrist back and broke it. She fractured her hands, dislocated her shoulders, flung her onto the ground, stomped on her chest, and broke her ribs; she pushed her pressure points before bending down and placing her knees on either side.

"Going to finish me off? Well, you've already done it once. You already destroyed yourself. Might as well do it twice. But you can't run from your problems, especially now that your problems are facing you head-on," she recited before squealing when Leah trampled on her throat and then her temples. She rose, blood staining her skin.

"Leah, don't listen—"

But Gwendolyn stopped and whitened when she heard booming blusters and bellows, followed by familiar masculine commands and shrill laughter; she heard pitiful whimpers coming from a young, withering child with perspiration covering her forehead, with blood smearing her cheeks, with her lips bruised and torn open. A thick brume emerged, showing Gwendolyn's distressed face. Her chest was lacerated; her legs were snapped and facing opposite directions. Her ribs protruded from her skinny, weathering frame; her nose spewed blood. Her cheeks were gaunt but decorated with an array of brutal-looking bruises; her arms were burned and ached. Her skin peeled and dropped; her hair was shaven, and her knees were peeled completely. One of her eyes was closed completely and bled.

Leah blared, appalled.

But her perpetrator simply laughed.

Without hesitating, Leah hurried forward, cradling and comforting Gwendolyn, who buried into her sides but continued to watch, horrified but mesmerized by the sight. Transpiring from the obscurity, he traipsed forward. He was a familiar handsome man with allusive, emerald irises, broad eyebrows, cropped, onyx hair, swarthy skin, and a tall, muscular frame that loomed above Gwendolyn. Following his father, the young child mirrored his father with his bewitching jade eyes, his enticing dark locks, his unmarred, swarthy complexion, and his slender frame complete with lean muscles.

Acacia's mate.

"Dearest Gwendolyn, this session will end faster if you just tell me where your precious mate is," his father uttered.

She spat, laughing but ultimately wheezing when his fingers latched themselves onto her throat. He squeezed and savored the sensation of her throat constricting and her jugular beating wildly between his hands. Once he released her, he monitored his son, who strode forward and grinned.

"Gwen, we don't want to hurt you," he began. His tenor sounded melodious and harmonious and relieving. "But we really need to know where your mate is. And I'll make you a deal—if you tell us and come to our side, you'll be protected with your mate for the rest of eternity."

"No," she dead panned.

"But you have to understand that you're not safe with your parents or your so called friends. If any of those people loved you, would you be in this position? Who leaves a child unguarded? But with us, you'll be safe with your mate for the rest of eternity. You'll never suffer," he promised, eyes shining with sincerity.

"No," she repeated, trembling.

"But you see my point," he urged. "You know that you've been wronged. You should've been protected, but where were your parents?"

"Helping our cause and fighting against yours," she interjected venomously.

"By abandoning you? My father brings me along, keeps me safe and protected with guards, but he usually protects me himself. He—"

"And by teaching you his murderous ways, by torturing people and robbing you of a happy future—"

"And who says you'll have a happy future with your alleged benevolent cause? From what I've heard, you're destined for agony and misery, with a mate who will never love you, with a mate who will cause your downfall, with a mate who will kill you himself," he rehearsed vindictively, but he gradually softened his voice with pity. His fingers rolled along the sides of her face, tracing her temples; his eyes became misty, then steely.

"You're wrong," she asserted, throat clogged. "Your sources haven't informed you correctly."

"But, dearest Gwen, haven't you ever wondered what my speciality is?" he tantalized, alarming her. "No. Well, I won't spoil the surprise. I can't have you blabbing to your precious parents. When the time comes, everyone will know. In the meantime, if you ever see your precious Jacob in the human realm, make sure to tell him that I said hi. And just so you know, my offer expires in ten years. You have until the age of seventeen to decide. Hopefully, you'll choose right."

The obscurity became denser, showing a shadow slowly slithering towards a young, lanky boy who howled with torment. While scratching his flesh, he groveled and twisted and tossed before finally toppling over and plunging to the ground. He rose unsteadily but dropped and weathered once more; he stopped momentarily, skin crawling and popping and tearing open, revealing a huge beast with salient canines and naturally narrowed eyes. Faltering slightly, the shadow glided forwards, consoling the tortured being whose inflamed disposition weakened and lightened significantly; the feathery touches alleviated him, causing him to close his eyelids and nestle closer to the shadow, which, to him, resembled a normal, landscape shadow. Unwillingly, he projected his thoughts of a pretty, pallid teenager, who encircled him andheld his hands; she stumbled over her words, rarely smiled, and sat in front of him while he worked on their motorcycles. She chatted quietly, depended on him, and called him her sun. She retracted.

He would never love her.

The fog darkened, showing his temperamental side as he fought with an unnatural being with golden eyes over his lover; he snuggled beside her, cracking immature jokes that made her roll his eyes. He glared at the vampire who supervised them before laughing when she wrapped her arms around his torso and her legs around his own. Burrowing his face into her mahogany ringlets, he pressed her against his chest and hoped for a future with her. It shifted, showing the two embracing and kissing passionately. Screaming, she vanquished the obscurity with her own darkness. Heart hammering, blood pounding, she paced but stopped. Her eyes reddened.

"That was just a ploy. She wanted him to fight. She just used him, Gwendolyn. She got married and left Forks with his family. And Jake—well, he's running the pack. He's not well, but I'm sure—"

"No," Gwendolyn whispered. "No. Don't deny it. He loves her. He always will. And maybe one day he'll love me, but never as much as her. And you know it. He's probably said it before."

"I'm sorry. You don't deserve it. You really don't," Leah declared. "But—"

"No," Gwendolyn insisted while hardening herself. "No."

"I'm nearly there," Seraphina interrupted. "Part of the defenses includes showing us our greatest—"

"Fears," she finished.

She was a curvaceous, statuesque beauty with lustrous onyx waves, which brushed the curve of her narrow waist, a glowing complexion void of imperfections, and strong facial features, which consisted of long, flirty eyelashes and incredibly stunning irises.

"Eva, I—"

"You don't even recognize yourself, do you?" she whispered, revealing her eyes which resembled the currents of the ocean leading to lakes. "Or should I say your future self. Are you having fun living under your sisters' shadows? Are you having fun knowing that you're just a carbon copy without any distinction?"

"I-I—"

"I-I—what?" she prompted, nose scrunching. "Struggling to find the words? Struggling to defend yourself when you know that fighting is vain? Struggling to keep your composure and good girl attitude, when in reality you just want to scream at everyone and everything? At your father and mother for leaving you alone, for not protecting you when you needed them the most, for arriving too late? At your sisters for the constant reminder that you're nothing special? At your beauty for being the reminder that you're nothing without your pretty face? At your brother for neglecting you? At Leah for being so damn helpful and nice when you were so close to killing her brother? At yourself for being so damn stupid and meddling and being so damn selfish all the time? For having hatred deep in your core at your enemies but mostly at yourself because you know you're not much better than them, because you know you will cause your mate's downfall because eventually you will fall into temptation and eat the forbidden fruit and damn everyone? It's only a matter of time—"

"Shut up!" Seraphina exclaimed. "You don't know anything! Shut up!"

"But I'm you, Seraphina. And unfortunately, I'm your greatest fear because everything that I mentioned you fight with. You like to pretend that nothing is wrong, that you're a good, little girl with the perfect appearance and smile and the best working ethic, but you're nothing. And it scares you that you have darkness straight in your core. You've proved it time and time again. Remember, honey, you caused the fire that destroyed everything, including your sanity. You—"

"Be quiet," Seraphina stated, erupting with uncontrollable rage and instantly suffocating and drowning her with her abilities. Without pausing, she returned to her position, silencing their attempts of persuasion by typing with newfound vigor.

Out of nowhere, the ambiguity of the atmosphere descended, snaking and slithering around their ankles, rising and grazing their torsos, touching and skimming their cheeks but ultimately lingering on Drakon. His eyes widened with anticipation. He manipulated his own obscurity and tried to combat the invading force, but his darkness receded. Pupils dilating, he merely monitored the congregating darkness, which condensed and thundered and revealed a large troop of soldiers marching through the woods. They weaved in between the trees and inspected their surroundings. Drakon stopped their advancements and shushed them before pointing to the treetops. Suspended in the air were two rebels, who cupped their hands over their mouths, ready to alert their reinforcements, but a camouflaged warrior shot them from behind and towed their lifeless bodies forward.

"Thanks, Leila," Drakon mentioned, grinning at the young woman who removed her gear, swiped her brow, and tied her chestnut-colored hair back.

"Don't mention it," she commented before repositioning her clothing. "What would you guys do without me?"

He chuckled before tightening his grip on his own gear. From time-to-time, he glanced behind himself and took a gander at the tree-tops; he watched Leila as she shouldered her bow and arrow but rapidly snaked back towards it. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his own reflection. Without thinking, he pushed his troop back, but it was too late.

"Get back!" Drakon ordered.

Figures popped out, surrounding them. Without warning, they dropped, falling unconscious.

When he woke up, his troop stared at him, sweating and coughing. Their noses scrunched from the retched stench of waste; their foreheads creased with thought, and their eyebrows furrowed together. Licking his lips, he rattled the chains binding his ankles and arms, which were twisted back and pinned to his back. Perspiring, he lunged forward, only to choke slightly when he realized he had chains on his neck. Gagging, he watched Leila, who refused to move.

"It's a waste of time," Leila remarked.

"We'll just hurt ourselves and waste our energy," he reinforced.

"We'll just have to wait," Leila reasoned, calming them with her level head.

On time, the entrance opened, revealing two familiar figures who sauntered forward with confidence. Immediately, Drakon stiffened, spine erect, shoulders squared, jaw jutted.

"Drakon, it's such a pleasure to see you again. I don't know if you've had the pleasure of meeting Adastros, the son of our leader, Alecto," Calder introduced.

"So you're the young leader your father has entrusted so greatly," Adastros began. "I must say I'm impressed with your work. You managed to take out several of my soldiers on the way here, and you have charisma. Very valiant. Very loyal and protective. But I must say, your second-in-command impressed me equally if not more. She has such raw talent."

He moved forward, enraging him. Leila raised her chin, meeting his eyes without any clear expression on her face.

"You're very talented," he praised; his voice captivating and beguiling.

"Thank you," Leila answered, "but your praise would be better accepted under better conditions."

"And witty," he remarked, grinning broadly. "I like you two. Two natural born leaders. Tell me, what's your name?"

"Leila," she responded pleasantly. "Now if you would be so kind as to let us go. It would be highly appreciated."

"You have the gift of persuasion, don't you?" Adastros asked rhetorically while nearing her and loosening her restraints. "Calder, come closer."

Drakon inched forward, resisting his urge to groan when his constraints contained him. Instantly, Calder froze, heels hovering above the ground, toes firmly planted onto the floor, cheeks draining of color; he gasped, eyes becoming larger and burly with trepidation. Struggling to maintain his composure, his chest rose erratically, mirroring his spastic breaths and following the rapid clenching and unclenching of his fists. With his veins popping against his neck, he regarded her, focusing on the scratches on her skin, on the finger-shaped bruises covering her arms, on the bondages imprisoning her. Briefly, he glanced at his leader, who studied his every movement with eagerness. In an instant, his irises became steely.

With disdain, Leila avoided his eyes and pridefully elevated her chin. Involuntarily, Drakon, accompanied by his troop mates, growled, warning Calder of their intentions.

"Oh, it's seems as if you've finally found your mate, Calder," Adastros rehearsed, clapping his hands together. "As is customary, Leila, would you care to join us?"

"No," she stated firmly.

"That's disappointing, but you have a few hours to give me your final decision. Choose wisely," Adastros advised. "Calder, we have other plans. You can retrieve sweet Leila soon."

Without a backwards look, Calder exited.

Her lips trembled; her eyes reddened, but she refused to cry. Instead, she stared at her comrades.

"I'll help you. I promise. I won't let any of you suffer for my stupidity," Drakon promised.

"Don't promise something you can't keep," she whispered sorrowfully. "And, Drakon, it's not your fault. We tried taking back the Bellators, and it didn't work. It's not your fault. Mistakes happen."

Her opinion was voiced throughout the chamber until Calder returned alone.

Sensing an opportunity, Leila sang a captivating harmony that forced him to march forward. His pupils were dilated, and his eyes were glossed over. He moved closer and gravely touched her restraints. Frowning, he broke through her chains. Suddenly, the entrance opened, revealing a group of immortals who instantly twisted her hands behind her back. She screamed, making him break her trance and composure; he stepped forward before backtracking and eluding her. In a spontaneous burst of energy, he shattered his chains and rushed forward. Calder's head whipped in his direction, but he refused to move; he let Drakon penetrate the layers and grab Leila, but Adastros materialized from the multitude, and, while flicking his wrists, blew them back. His cronies seized them, roughly pulling them along.

"I was hoping you wouldn't use your gift against your mate, Leila, but it seems like you care more about your cause than the possibility of living the rest of eternity with your mate," Adastros recited before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I had so much planned for you. So much. It's such a shame."

Grunting, Drakon flipped over, knocking his opponent down and kicking his throat. Leila kicked her adversary's groin before putting him in a chokehold; she punched his temples before throwing him away and facing the ferocious woman who wobbled forward. Leila punched the rebel before catapulting herself forward and biting through her flesh. With ease, she threw her forwards and caught one of her companions off guard, causing them both to topple onto each other. Kicking off a wall, Drakon somersaulted before pressing her pressure points and flinging her into the floor, where he stomped on her chest. Shrieking, her mate barreled forward, but, with two simple movements, Drakon killed him. Laughing, Adastros wandered forwards and summoned Calder.

"Remember what we spoke about, Calder," Adastros uttered.

Drakon plummeted, agonizing but unwilling to show it. Leila sprinted forwards and placed herself in his line of sight.

"That's weird," Adastros commented mindlessly. "Calder's gift doesn't work on you, but your gift works on him."

Without warning, two guards ensnared each of them, tugging them away and finally throwing them without any care into a torture chamber. The metallic odor of blood and urine permeated the chamber, where the flesh of previous victims and vomit layered the ground. Leila snarled at the guards who retrieved her and placed her under straps. They settled Drakon beside her. His nose bled from the migraine Calder caused.

"Let her go! Let everyone go! I'll do anything," Drakon begged.

"I'm sorry, but your little darling is worth more at the moment, and I'm sure this experience will be beneficial for both parties," Adastros reported. "Calder, try your gift on Leila again. I want to make sure it wasn't an accident."

Leisurely, he stalked forward, concentrating on her snarling figure, on her gaping mouth, on her expectant eyes, on her revulsion-marred features.

"It doesn't work," Calder rendered, retreating.

"Then I guess I'll have to rely on other sources. Maximus, you're very handy with tools. Would you mind working your magic on little Leila?" Adastros prompted, eyeing Calder when he stood rigidly. "And, Nathan, take care of Drakon. It seems like Calder's gift stunned him, and I don't want Leila to be the only one having fun."

Without hesitating, Maximus unveiled his weapons, while Nathan grabbed stronger restraints and a twisted, poisoned knifed, whose jagged edges unevenly cleaved through his flesh, impaling through his layers and rupturing his insides. Swallowing, he tossed and heaved when his warden severed his chest with his weapon, infiltrating his bloodstream and causing him to breathe shallowly. Grinning maliciously, he flipped Drakon over and tightened the chains over his throat and wrists. Ripping his shirt, he revealed his unmarred back. Remorselessly, he mutilated his back, mangling and ribboning his flesh, yanking pieces and throwing them onto the floor, splitting and splicing open his flesh. Bellowing, he banged his body against the table but yelped when his neck started bleeding profusely.

"Let him go!" Leila screeched. "Let him go! I'll do anything! I swear! You animals! Savages!"

Lengthening his blade, he wrenched his weapon underneath his skin and skimmed his spine. Instantly, his flesh blackened, his blood switched color, his heart started pumping slowly. He whined, watching black dots dance across his vision. Still, he fought, coughing blood when his warden jabbed his stomach. Lying in his own puddle, he turned, dripping, perspiring, agonizing.

"Maximus, begin," Adastros declared.

Zealously, he traced his sword along her throat and nicked her slightly before completely deforming her face with his blade; she resisted, creating longer wounds that stretched from her crown to the very start of her collarbones; he punched her nose, breaking it. Eagerly, he cut her hair, creating lacerations on her shaven head. Drakon yelled and tried to summon his abilities, but his opponent broke his ribs and knees.

"Please stop," he muttered, choking on his saliva.

Calder's posture straightened. His eyes narrowed, focusing on her convulsing frame. Maximus traced her limbs with his blade before stabbing her stomach twice and slicing her legs; he fractured her feet, moving onto her knees, her wrists, her shoulders, and her collarbones. He ruptured her chest, making her lungs compact.

"Stop," she muttered. "Let him go. Let us all go. You savages will rot once—"

"Once what?" Adastros prompted. "Begging and threatening doesn't flatter you, Leila."

Calder trudged forward, eyes hard and steely.

"Luckily for you, your troops are coming. And I'm afraid to say this, Leila, but you won't be going home. I really enjoyed your spirit but sadly your existence hurts my cause," Adastros mentioned, causing Calder to snap his head around and stare at him with an emotion Drakon could not decipher. "Maximus, kill her."

Astonished, Calder stood still as Maximus murdered her. His features were twisted with ecstatic pleasure, and his eyes shone with perverted pleasure. Drakon howled, pleading and supplicating and sniveling when she died, head bashed, eyes unmoving, mouth gaping open.

"You animals! H-how c-could y-you do this? H-how c-could you watch?"

"We really must be going now, Drakon. I know we'll meet soon, under different conditions of course. Calder, carry the body. We're taking her. Maximus and Nathan, make sure the restraints are tightened. I wouldn't want him to escape before his father arrives," Adastros divulged before exiting with his subordinates and leaving him with two other soldiers.

Drakon roared, allowing the obscurity around him to fully taint his innocence and stain his soul with the mark of darkness; he let his rage build until he screamed and blackened their faces. Drakon burned their eyes and scorched their limbs. The brume congregated around his chest, blackening his eyes, darkening his aurora, clouding his irises with permanent grief. His restraints fell. And he rose, bleeding, limping but using his new ability to help him plod forward. Sensing foreign presences, he attacked every person who neared him by searing their faces. He saved his troop, who stared at him before covering their eyes from the intensity of his rage. His rage harbored inside his soul, frightening his comrades.

The darkness faded.

"We've breached the system. They're planning an attack on the Sirenis soon. They plan to attack the outskirts and then the kingdom with the royal family inside. And they're planning to infiltrate the Populus Fusca. But these are the layouts for their prisons, which, according to this, have our kidnapped soldiers and military leaders. It's located near the Bellator kingdom, hidden underground," Seraphina divulged, lightening the atmosphere. "If I change the coding, I can send it to our databases and destroy this base."

"And we can do that now," Acacia maintained.

They exited, eyes trailing the burning building—eyes following the slow descent of the military base that had brought their fears to life.

It was a bitter victory.

* * *

Leah plodded through the halls and descended the staircase, where she nodded at the passing guards who respectfully saluted. Following her instincts, she walked through the shrouded passage, bulleted across the expanse, descended the staircase, and smiled curtly at the distending vines. When she saw a lone figure sitting on the grass with his back facing her, she silently sat beside him. Together, they watched the waxing crescent moon.

"It's not your fault," Leah stated, disrupting the silence.

"If I had been paying attention, I would've realized that it was trap from the beginning," Drakon asserted.

"But you didn't. And it's not your fault. She didn't die because of you. She died because one twisted being decided to kill her. There's nothing you could have done. If she hadn't been killed in this mission, she would've been killed eventually, just because Adastros noticed how much Leila affected Calder," Leah divulged. "Calder would've switched eventually, just to protect Leila. You noticed it. He didn't save her, but he didn't know she would be killed. After all, wasn't Calder a faithful servant?"

"Second-in-command," Drakon revealed. "He's his second-in-command—has been for nearly three years—which is why we were so surprised when we captured him without him fighting like he usually does. It's still my fault for bringing my troop there, Leah, but I guess you're right. Adastros would have never let her live as long as she affected Calder—as long as there was a possibility that he would disobey him."

"And don't you think it's strange that Calder's gift didn't work on her, but her gift worked on him?" Leah prompted.

"Leila was extremely skilled," Drakon verbalized, tenor fluctuating.

"And Calder's extremely skilled as well," she vocalized. "I don't particularly like Calder. I really don't. But there are many mysteries involved, especially since he feels deep remorse about her death."

"There are, but I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for what he did," Drakon expressed.

"And you don't have to," Leah divulged. "Unfortunately, life is full of complexities, and we'll never fully understand others and their intentions."

"Unfortunately," he complied. "And, Leah, I want to thank you for not judging me. I-I haven't been the best person, and I've embraced my own darkness as a part of my life, but I want to thank you for helping me clear my head."

"You're welcome."

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed the outline of his facial features—the slope of his nose, the sharp contours of his cheeks, the creasing of his forehead; she eyed his broad shoulders, which slumped over his knees and his still hands. Leaning forward, she glanced at his wrists, noting the carving etched onto his skin. Upon further inspection, she realized it was a Cerberus—a three headed creature with a ghastly, demonic appearance, glowing irises, salient fangs, and an incredibly muscular frame.

"It happened while I was unconscious during that mission," he orated.

After grabbing his hand, she traced the curvature on his wrists before touching the indent of the mark. Leah glanced at his face and eyes, which maintained their expressionless composure. He smiled but ruefully and ironically.

"Funny, isn't it?" Drakon inquired rhetorically. "I'm marked with the insignia of my enemies, ruined and scarred for the rest of my life—however long that may be."

"I'm sure—"

"You haven't seen the scars, Leah. They're horrendous. When my mom saw, she started crying. Cara left the room. And my dad—well, he just stared at them."

"They're your family. They were probably impacted by the event, not the sight of the scars," Leah conjectured.

"You haven't seen them," he repeated.

"Then let me."

After hearing the determined tinge to her voice and staring at her rigid posture, he peeled off his shirt and turned, allowing the lucent light to illuminate his back. She expired sharply, hands trembling, finger shaking, breaths billowing rapidly. He retreated, but she hurriedly stopped him.

"I'm sorry, but I have to—I just have to," she verbalized.

Understanding, he stopped and hunched over, exposing the full extent of his scarring; his flesh puckered at the edges, punctured and puckered, with thin, rough strips of skin barely covering his spine. Dented, the flesh blackened at the edges and reddened on the inside. Holes, at least a few centimeters deep, covered his skin, leading to his sides. Carefully, she grazed his skin with the very top of her fingers, shushing his protests when he jolted forward; she touched his sides, feeling the dents of his ribs and several deep wounds. Following the unmarked trail, she knelt in front of him and brushed the jagged ends slashing his chest in half.

The Cerberus was imprinted over his body, starting from the back of his neck and following the natural arch of his back before extending to the very front of his torso.

"Disgusted?" he asked, chuckling harshly.

"No," she dead-panned. "I actually respect you more. You're a survivor. And you deserve to be respected. But you deserve to respect yourself more."

"Just like you," he retaliated. "You're strong, Leah; you're light and fiercely protective and loyal and an overall good person, but you don't respect yourself. You let others control your life, when you should live for yourself and not care about others' opinions."

"But—"

"I know I don't understand your problems, but I know that you aren't giving yourself enough credit; you should focus on your positive aspects rather than the negative ones. You're brilliant. Truly brilliant. You shouldn't be afraid of yourself."

"You're right. You don't understand. And I don't mean that rudely, it's just what I really think," Leah mentioned. "I guess I should share my side, since you've shown me yours."

"You don't have to."

"But I feel like I owe it to you after everything that's happened," Leah informed him. "So, you know that I returned and never came back. I completely forgot about everyone—and I'm sorry. I really didn't intend to, but it happened. I made friends—well, reunited with them and made amends. So, I grew up with them and ended up excelling academically and socially. I ended up liking Sam, who, by that time, was my best friend. He apparently liked me, too, so we dated for four years. We were dubbed 'High School Sweethearts.' And I believed it.

"When we graduated, we planned to elope, but Sam turned into a shapeshifter. That didn't stop us though. I asked my cousin, Emily, to be our witness, and, when she came, everything changed. I noticed that Sam looked at Emily with different, more loving eyes, while he disregarded me completely. I knew it was coming the second he laid eyes on her. He ended our relationship, and I was upset, especially when he chose her over me, especially when the two began to live together, especially when everyone spread rumors. But I was still okay. Sad but okay.

"But my dad—well, he's always had heart problems, but I guess it progressed to the point where he was really vulnerable. My problems were affecting him. I barely spoke. I barely confided in him anymore. And he could tell that everything was affecting me, but I refused to speak to him about it—to at least act normally for his sake. So, when he tried to help the pack, a red-headed parasite snuck behind him and attacked him, causing his heart attack. The pack tried to help from what I saw later on, but it was useless. Absolutely useless. He died. And I shifted. At his funeral. I didn't see him getting lowered to the ground. I didn't get to apologize and talk to him and say goodbye. I-I really wanted to. And I still want to.

"Well, I realized that Sam had imprinted on my cousin, which hurt more than I expected. In our culture, wolves imprint to create a greater generation, and well I went to a doctor after noticing the changes to my body. I grew. I matured. But I didn't have monthly periods anymore. When I checked, I wished I hadn't. Apparently, I'm infertile. And that fact slapped me in the face. It still slaps me in the face. The whole purpose of these bonds is for a stronger generation to be born, and I can't even do my job correctly. I-I'm a disaster. And I'm so angry at everything, at everyone, but apparently I'm not. Apparently, I'm angry and afraid of myself because I know that I could've prevented my father's death, my own spiritual descent, my own shifting. I-I could've—"

"No, you couldn't have," Drakon interrupted. "Your father always had heart problems; his health was declining. And your problems would've concerned him, but not to the point where his heart weakened significantly. That vampire attack caused him to die, not you. And, although you said this to me and I didn't believe, it's not your fault. It really isn't."

"Agree to disagree," Leah uttered, simpering darkly.

"It'll obviously take time for us to accept our faults and fears and get better, but in the meantime, I'm glad we had this talk. And, Leah, your infertility shouldn't be a problem. There's a reason why everything happens. And, from what I heard, I feel like you and Sam weren't a good match. I'm sure he did suffer, but if he could leave you that easily—well, I don't think anyone could leave someone like you easily and shouldn't. You're special. And you deserve to recognize it. You deserve better," Drakon consoled her.

"And, in a cheesy novel or movie, this is when you say, 'Like me,' and move forward to kiss me, and I'll magically accept that as a fact," Leah mentioned unintentionally. She flushed but guffawed when he roared with laughter.

"In a cheesy book, I would, but seeing as we're both a little too broken for own good and need to heal, I think we should mend our friendship before moving onto the next step," Drakon reported, chuckling lightly before transforming. "But honestly, Leah, you've really opened my eyes."

She hugged him and pressed her cheek against his scars.

"And you've opened mine."

* * *

Thanks guys for reading! Thank you, guest reviewer, for reviewing! That review really made my day!

I decided not to split this chapter up so things could flow a bit better. Next chapter will also be very dramatic.

I will update in two days!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: _Sleepwalking_

"He's been such a nightmare," Acacia groaned.

"Who?" Leah asked curiously.

"Plutus."

"I thought his interrogations were at midnight?" Leah pointed out, watching as Acacia turned over and nodded.

"They are, but I haven't been sleeping too well, so I go down sometimes and try to help out," she responded, smiling wanly. Leah stared at her as she yawned and rubbed her eyes, which were dim and slightly glazed over.

"Shouldn't you be trying to get more sleep?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't always work out. And when I try, I always end up getting really anxious. I guess I feel like there's so much to do and so little time to do it," she explained before sighing and smiling up at Leah, who plopped down beside her and hugged her.

"You know you're always welcome to sleep with me."

"That sounds mildly suggestive," Radley chimed as he materialized and lied down beside them. "Am I invited?"

"As soon as you can fly," Acacia joked.

"You wound me, Acacia. And here I thought we were friends," he retaliated, hands clutching his chest. She rolled her eyes but chuckled. "But you should really stop taking the graveyard shift. You're looking really—what's the nice way to say this. Oh Hell, there's no nice way to say this. You're looking really dead."

"You couldn't have said something along the lines of 'you're looking really tired,'" Leah mentioned, snorting.

"I like to tell the truth," he said, shrugging. "And sometimes the truth hurts."

"Almost as much as my fists?" Acacia asked.

"Nah, I think your fists probably hurt more," Radley joked before stopping and grimacing. "Seriously, though, you really have to start sleeping more. You can't keep taking these shifts."

"Look—"

"Now don't start with your 'I don't need sleep' chant and your 'you're not me, so you can't judge' chant because you know I'm right. I know you've been helping, but Adara basically had to drag you out of there this morning, and she told you that you had to stop sneaking back up there. Ly agrees. You know they're both worried, and they're going to tell your mom to come up here to restrain you if she has to," Radley added. "And you know what else, Plutus isn't suddenly going to see the light and spew his sins. He's going to elongate it. At this rate, we have more of a chance at getting Calder to confess than Plutus."

"He's got a point," Leah answered. "And you know it. It'll take a lot to get him to talk."

"That's why we're hurrying things up today," Drakon announced, appearing beside Acacia. He squeezed her shoulders before embracing her from the side and placing her underneath his chin. "You won't have to take the night shift anymore."

"Everyone makes it sound like I do it on purpose," she grumbled.

"That's because you do," he accused. "Maybe not consciously, but subconsciously, you do. Don't deny it."

"That seems like a common phrase for everyone," she moaned before perking up. "So what's going to happen?"

"All of our parents decided that it would be better to use other methods," Drakon stated stoically. "They need that information now. Every second that passes by without that information is another second that something bad happens."

"What other methods?" Leah questioned.

"You'll see," Drakon murmured, eyes downcast.

* * *

Plutus grunted and spat his own blood. Laughing deliriously, he straightened and stared at Adara, who paced around him and placed her hands on his quivering shoulders; he growled before beaming and slackening his constricted muscles.

"I could use a shoulder massage."

Adara ignored him.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"You underestimate me."

"I thought you would say that."

Adara turned and faced him. Eyes blazing, she delved into his head and searched until she found his mental barriers; she prodded and tried to penetrate his barriers, but she resurfaced and nodded towards the one-way glass.

"Reinforcements?" he jeered. "Can't do it yourself, can you?"

"You're pretty cocky for someone whose life is in our hands."

"Are you threatening me, dearest Adara? Or can I call you Dara? Isn't that what all your friend call you? And aren't we the best of friends?"

Cara walked through the entrance, while Ly closed the door behind himself and slowly neared Plutus.

"And your son?"

They ignored him, but he cackled and rattled his chains.

"You're worried, aren't you?" he baited. "He hasn't been the same since Leila, and you're probably worried that the kid will taint himself further, right? He liked killing; he loves killing. You're worried that he'll turn out to be just like Adastros."

Cara merely blinked and bent down slightly.

"This will hurt slightly, but don't worry, it feels more like a pinch than anything," Cara warned pleasantly before placing her fingers on his temples. Adara closed her eyes and followed, while Ly mimicked their moves.

Plutus smirked but stopped when his temples started pounding erratically and searing; he grated his teeth together and fisted his chained hands, but his veins started popping and pulsating. Jutting his jaw, he heaved and struggled against them, but his chains bounded him in place. Screaming, he worked furiously in fortifying his barriers, but the three prodded and penetrated his barriers; he brought his own dark essence through his mind, but Adara and Cara blighted his presence. Ly pummeled through and brought nearly forgotten memories to the forefront of his mind. Crumbling, Plutus withered but shrieked. Ly quickly exited, while Adara and Cara extended their own light into his head and burned his ties. Plutus convulsed, spitting, sweating, screeching. Suddenly, his eyes rolled to the back and blood rushed from his nose. Abrupt light shone from his eyes, while his head slammed against the back of his seat and his mouth opened against his will. Gaping, he slackened against his seat and wheezed. Adara and Cara—whose bodies had emanated a nearly blinding light, whose eyes had suddenly opened and glowed unearthly, whose muscles had gone rigid—suddenly leapt back and held their pounding heads.

"Are you guys okay?" Ly asked feverishly. Adara nodded, shaking unconsciously. Cara swallowed hard but nodded. When she stood up, her knees buckled and collapsed, but Ly quickly swooped down and cradled her.

"I'm o-okay," she stammered.

"How is h-he?" Adara asked, stumbling over her words.

"He's unconscious, but that doesn't matter. You two have to rest," Ly advised.

"We n-need t-to w-watch," Cara mumbled, exhausted.

"We d-don't h-have m-much time."

"Okay, but you can't interrogate him," Ly compromised. Adara hesitated but consented. Cara wobbled and smiled drowsily at Alcander, who stooped down and carried her towards the entrance; she put her arms around his neck and nuzzled into his chest, while he worriedly rubbed her arm.

Ly gathered Adara, who sighed contently and unconsciously closed her eyes; he grimaced as he pushed back her sweaty hair and noticed her jittery limbs. Gulping, he caressed her cheeks, closed the door behind him, and nodded at Acacia and Acastus. He pulled Adara closer, lips tweaking upwards when he felt her breathing heavily against his neck. When he pulled back slightly, he saw her sleeping and cuddling against his side.

"They'll be fine," he announced.

"Good," Drakon breathed, relieved.

"When he wakes up, you four know what you have to do, right?"

They nodded.

When he awakened, he jolted and thrashed against his chains, looking feverish and delirious; he cursed and shouted when he saw Acacia and Acastus, followed by Micah and Drakon, enter the room and close the door behind them.

"So you're back?" he snarled. "Thought they would've convinced you to sleep by now."

"Were you worried about me? How sweet," Acacia responded sardonically.

"Listen here—"

"Come on, Plutus, don't bother with the usual tirade about how we won't be getting any information out of you and how we're bastards and scum and everything in between—because we all know we'll be getting information out of you," Acastus dismissed before wandering forwards and tightening his chains.

"Comfortable?" Acacia asked.

"Very," he sneered before spitting on her feet.

"How classy."

"Come on, Plutus. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can leave," Micah stated.

"Leave?" Plutus questioned before laughing. "The only way you'll let me leave is if I'm in a casket."

"Isn't that a great suggestion?" Drakon leered. "Unlike you, we don't roll that way. You'll be getting your own personal cell with all the luxuries included; you'll even get your own toilet!"

"Aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Plutus retaliated before smirking. "You've really changed, Drakon. And you remind me of someone, too."

Drakon frowned but ignored him.

"Not going to ask? I guess you're afraid of knowing that you're following his footsteps. And I guess you're afraid of being like the person who ordered poor Leila's death. I—"

"So, Plutus, tell us about Adastros and Alecto."

"Can't."

"We know you can. You're not tied to him anymore."

"Won't then."

"That's funny," Acacia murmured, smiling. Suddenly, she jumped forwards and stabbed his right hand; she twisted the dagger further into his hand before throwing him against his chain and watching as he fell to the ground. Hissing, he thrashed but gulped when she put her heel on his throat and crouched down beside him.

"Perfect match."

"What?"

"You two are a perfect match. You're both sadistic—probably even more than Alecto."

His eyes widened.

"Let's get your tongue rolling," Acaca ordered. "Micah."

And suddenly, the air around him thickened and strangled him; he gasped and choked and retched. Desperately, he fingered his throat and gaped, but he could not breathe. His head lulled to the side, while his face whitened and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Abruptly, it stopped.

"Ready?"

He breathed shallowly and glared, ignoring her completely.

"Drakon."

 _He walked forwards and bent down in front of him. While forcing his eyes to meet his, he infiltrated his head and brought back his forgotten memories. Plutus screamed with heart-wrenching sorrow when he saw his younger brothers struggling against two immortals with vengeful eyes; he yelled and pleaded and fought against his restraints when one of the men suddenly snapped his baby brother's neck. The other shouted, begging him to save him. But he couldn't. Plutus cussed and plunged to the ground when the other immortal sliced his throat open and left him gurgling on the floor._

 _"Such a pity, isn't it?"_

 _And they left, leaving him alone. Eyes blackened and swollen, he sat, crumpled and agonizing, in his own family's blood. Breaths shallow, he crawled towards his brother and watched his eyes look up at the ceiling with an unwavering, unblinking gaze; he cradled his younger brothers before weeping and looking for his mother, whose pregnant belly was savagely torn open. He screamed and sobbed, holding his brothers close to his chest. His head bled profusely; his chest was serrated and ribboned; his arms were sliced open. He coughed out his own blood._

"Stop!" Plutus commanded, but Drakon brought back the memory of a beautiful, auburn-haired woman with bright, hazel eyes and rosy cheeks. _She chuckled and tackled Plutus to the ground before putting her knees on his either side and kissing him slowly. Dazed, he swept back her short tendrils and nuzzled into the crook of her neck, making her shriek and swat him back._

 _"You know I'm ticklish," she accused, while he pouted and nuzzled into her again._

 _"Can't you make an exception?"_

 _"I guess just this once," she murmured before kissing him and yelping when he rolled her over. Giggling, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him towards her._

 _"I have great news for you."_

 _"What is it?" he asked, but she lifted his shirt. Laughing breathlessly, he planted kisses over her cheeks, forehead and neck before kissing her passionately._

 _"Sorry to interrupt but—"_

 _She simpered when Plutus stiffened and sighed._

 _"It's no problem, Alecto," she dismissed, beaming broadly._

 _"See, Plutus, this is why I like Cece better than you. She understands," Alecto joked. "Do you mind if I take him for a while?"_

 _"No, go ahead, but bring him back in one piece," Cece said, smiling._

 _"See you later," Alecto dismissed._

 _"Bye," she responded before pecking Plutus and walking back to their site._

 _"She'll be fine, don't worry," Alecto reminded him. "She's with my sister, and they're both Furies when they're angry. They're fine. But I need to talk to you."_

 _"About what?"_

 _"I really didn't want to talk to you about this, but I feel like I should tell you."_

 _"You know you can always tell me anything."_

 _"That's good to know because this isn't easy. Plutus, I feel like you're starting to neglect your duties. I know you love Cece, but you have to do the tasks first. Remember why we're doing this Plutus. They took our families away from us. They killed our entire village. You saw them kill them right in front of you. And the only reason why they left us—why they only left you, my sister and I—alone was because they wanted us to hurt. They wanted to instill fear into our hearts and make us die on the inside. But we didn't let them do that. We're not going to let them do that," Alecto preached, eyes blazing, hands clenching, nostrils flaring. "We were friends since birth. Our families were friends. Best friends. We can't just let the Praeditos and those filthy mongrels they call friends attack us and kill our friends and family without doing anything. We made a pact, Plutus: to avenge our families and prevent them from doing this again. You know they're doing this all over. We can't let this happen."_

 _"I didn't even realize that I was doing that, but I'll fix it. I promise, Alecto. You've been my best friend for years, and I love Cece, but I know that putting my tasks first will help her in the long run, too."_

 _"But if she was pregnant, then you'd have to drop everything."_

 _"If she was, I couldn't go away on missions anymore," he confirmed, "just because I would want to protect her myself. Although, Lord knows that she can protect herself just right. But I could do other things."_

 _"But just not the most important ones," Alecto filled in, eyes glinting with an undecipherable emotion._

 _"No, but I don't think you'll have to worry about that for a while. I don't think she's pregnant," Plutus said slowly. He felt dread creeping up his throat, but he cleared his throat and swallowed hard._

 _"Well, with the way you two have been acting lately, I doubt it," he mentioned before grinning brightly. "That would be great, though. You two deserve a happy family, especially after everything that you two have been through."_

 _Plutus sighed, relieved._

 _"Thanks, Alecto."_

 _"Don't mention it. I mean, I haven't met my mate yet, but I could only hope that she'll be as great as Cece. Your relationship has really opened my eyes. I've seen how much she's changed you. You've gotten...softer."_

 _"Yeah, well—"_

 _Sudden screams pierced the air._

 _"Cece!" he shouted before propelling himself forwards and finding Cece screaming and pointing at Alecto._

 _"Plutus, don't tr—"_

 _And he snapped her neck._

 _"No!" Plutus shrieked before running forwards and instantly snapping his neck. It was one of them. He desperately cradled Cece and pleaded for her to return, but she wouldn't._

 _He heard groans and reassurances. Alecto tried to console him, but he screamed and cursed and hugged her tighter. His sister reawakened, holding her bleeding head in her hands. She grunted and crawled forward, taking extra care of her snapped ankle._

 _"What's happening?" she asked, disoriented. But she suddenly shrieked and wept and neared him. "Please tell me this is a nightmare. Please tell me this isn't real. She was pregnant. She was going to tell you today, Plutus. This can't be real."_

 _Plutus buried himself into Cece, shaking, praying, dying._

 _"No!" she screamed deliriously. "They couldn't. Not again."_

 _"I can't believe it," Alecto whispered; his voice detached._

 _But, when Plutus glanced at them, he saw Alecto shaking his head furiously at his sister, who pointed at him with her mouth wide open. She shook and covered her mouth, but her eyes blazed with disbelief. When he looked, he saw their insignia—their Cereberus—tattooed on the immortal's ankle. Alecto stealthily walked forwards and grabbed the man, but he glared at his sister, who heaved and refused to meet his gaze._

 _"I'll get rid of him."_

 _Plutus froze, not knowing what to do._

"You're vile," Plutus spat.

"I'm vile? What about your fearless leader?" Drakon taunted. "And you still support him after everything that he's done? He arranged your mate's death!"

"You want me to spill the beans by bringing my mate into this?" he screamed, outraged. But he deflated. "I don't even know why I try anymore. I know he won't do it."

"Do what? And who?"

"He knew that I knew. I tried to hide it, but he has this gift of being able to stick himself onto you. He knows if you've betrayed him or not, and now he probably knows that I'm spilling the beans. You took the ties away mentally, so he's probably sending one or two of his best to come kill me. What's the use? Well, he confronted me once—when Adastros was born—and promised me that he could return my mate."

"How?"

"He told me that Adastros had the ability to bring the dead back to life. I didn't believe him. He knew I was just biding my time before I could escape, so he showed me. The kid could bring smaller things back to life, and Alecto promised me that as he grew he would be able to bring bigger things back. He said that, by the age of adulthood, he would be able to bring back my Cece. And I believed him."

"He can do that?"

"Adastros can do anything that he puts his mind into. That's probably why he's recruiting more people than his father."

"Recruiting?"

"Oh, there's a huge civil war happening within the ranks. It'd be pretty funny if people weren't killing each other left and right. Everyone's pretty paranoid. You can't trust anyone, but what does it really matter to me anyway? I'm going to die soon."

"We're not going to kill you," Acacia pointed out.

"You're not, but he's going to."

"Who?" Acacia prompted.

"Your lover boy," he sneered. Acacia stiffened and hissed. "What you're not interested in him—"

"How do you even know?"

"I think a better question is: how wouldn't I know?"

"You're not making much sense."

"Listen, child, your mate—whether you like it or not—is one of the most, if not the most, powerful immortals out there. And judging by everyone's faces, they hadn't confirmed that he's your mate. But I'm sure you had your suspicions."

"Just go on."

"You're going to learn a lot of things about your mate, Acacia. So many things. It'll be a wonder if any of you can stop him. He has more power than all of you combined."

"I doubt that."

"Whatever you say, princess."

But suddenly, the alarms sounded.

"Stay here."

"Where would I go?"

And they filed out, leaving him alone. He breathed deeply, knowing his time had come.

It was time.

The door opened again and snapped shut.

"Hello, boys," Plutus greeted.

"Plutus, it's time."

"Adastros?"

Nodding, they trudged forwards and snapped his neck, watching as his head dangled onto his chains.

* * *

Calder hissed, head pounding, teeth grinding against each other, nails inching toward his face. Suddenly, he stopped, bounding forwards instead of backwards. Cackling, he merely stared at the two rebels who had once had once been his faithful subordinates.

"It's time, Calder."

"Seems like it," he responded before zooming forward, whipping back his fists and sucker punching his adversary. Without pausing, he side-kicked his throat, making him bobble but launch forward. Speedily, he kicked off the wall, somersaulting and then punching his second opponent, who evaded his blows and used his weight to push him backwards. Heels bouncing, he catapulted himself forward, using his agility to tackle and pin his arms above his head. Quickly, he dodged, leaping on his feet and barreling toward the two men who concussed their heads. With two quick movements, he snapped their throats, smiling when their heads lulled to the side, their mouths opened with astonishment, and their eyes lost their spirits.

When his wardens burst through the entrance, he grinned, eyes narrowing, hands cracking, chest rising with adrenaline; he meandered forward, kicking the corpses, stomping their arms with his toes and flinging them in their direction.

"It seems like you're lacking in your defenses," he commented idly. "I'm sure Ly and Adara would love to know that one of your most important prisoners was almost killed by two incompetent mercenaries."

Without speaking, the two divided the convicts and retreated, securely locking the door behind them. Once they left the area, he receded, dropping his malicious smirk and rubbing his hands over his face; he whined under his breath and cursed when he envisioned his young mate supplicating and screeching and damning them. He banged his head against the wall when he remembered his vivacious mate whitening and dying and decomposing—his mate lying in his arms, head lulling, limbs weak.

He screamed, cursing, damning, _agonizing_.

* * *

It was daybreak.

And she awoke, startled, with her calves aching, with her eyes drowsy and misty, with her hands streaked with dirt.

Alarmed, she surveyed every inch of her room before edging off her platform and cleaning herself. Carefully, she tiptoed towards the entrance, but she jolted backwards when the door jostled and finally opened. Sighing, she sauntered forward, laughing when three young girls latched themselves onto her legs and arms. Giggling, she knelt in front of them, hugging them and kissing their flustered cheeks.

"Good morning!" Demetria chimed.

"Good morning," Leah repeated while smoothing her hair. "And good morning to you two. How did you all sleep?"

They stiffened.

"What happened?" Leah questioned worriedly.

"I sleep walked," Cyrena mumbled, eyes downcast.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"I don't know," she whispered, lips trembling. "I don't remember."

Throat clogged, she embraced Cyrena and shushed her quiet whimpers. She stroked the side of her face and nestled her further into the crook of her neck.

"Does Nico know?"

"He does," she murmured.

"He watched her and made sure she stayed in her room," Demetria interjected.

Leah tensed but rocked her back-and-forth; she cracked a smile when the other girls hopped forwards and poked Cyrena's sides to make her laugh. When Cyrena giggled, the dreadful atmosphere dissipated but not completely.

Casually, Nicodemus and Delia popped their heads through the entrance and eyed the huddle of simpering, twittering girls with broad grins on their lips. Without warning, Nico bounded forward and scooped Angelique into his arms; he swung her around and around until she squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck, securing herself while he spun her around and tickled her sides. She guffawed. Snorting, he stopped and glanced at Delia when she seized Demetria; she bounced in her lap and chuckled, clapping her hands together with excitement. Cyrena's chest rumbled with laughter, and, with reddening cheeks, she snuggled with Leah.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, we need to go to breakfast," Nico stated, staring at the cheeky girls who avoided his gaze. "I mean, I did call you all down for breakfast fifteen minutes ago, but apparently I wasn't heard."

"Or maybe you were, and we didn't want to go before seeing Leah," Demetria intoned.

"Is that true?" Nico asked, amused. He tickled Angelique; she tittered and shook her head and resumed giggling when he stopped.

"Well, it's nice to know that I have no authority," he commented, "but you all have to go to breakfast so you can grow big and strong. Now go. Micah's waiting."

Snickering, the trio exited, forgetting and forgiving easily.

"You look stressed out," Delia commented while nearing her.

"I'm just concerned about Cyrena," she answered. "What happened to her exactly?"

"Well, after the incident last night—"

"Incident?" Leah questioned, eyebrows raised, forehead creased.

"You didn't hear? It was practically buzzing last night with the news of what happened to Plutus and Calder," Nico uttered while jutting his jaw.

"No, I didn't hear," Leah responded, puzzled.

"Well, two mercenaries infiltrated our barriers and killed Plutus."

"After we all searched for the sources?"

"So, you know how we left?"

"Well, we had to, but we didn't find anything and decided to call it a day with the interrogation," Leah elaborated.

"Well, when Acacia went back with Adara and Ly, they saw Plutus' dead body," Delia revealed.

"And Calder?"

"Well, when they found his body, they immediately went to Calder's cell. Apparently, they entered Calder's prison with the intention of murdering him. He killed them, of course, but we weren't aware of them until it as too late. Anything could've happened. They could've released him."

"But it makes sense because Plutus kept saying he was dead. I feel like he could've taken them, but he just didn't want to anymore."

"He was chained," Nico pointed out.

"But he's done his best work with chains, and you know that," Delia added.

"Did you question Calder?" Leah inquired.

"We did, but he's anxious. There's something wrong with him, but he doesn't want to say anything. And he's avoiding Cara's abilities. His mind is bounded like Plutus', but I feel like it's stronger," Nico verbalized.

"That sounds very likely," Leah voiced. "When are we interrogating him again?"

"After breakfast," Nico replied.

* * *

Deep black shadows marred his under-eyes, contrasting dramatically with his sickly, ghastly complexion, which glistened with perspiration created by his deteriorating condition; he spat before growling and jeering, glowering and storming forward, clawing and pawing the glass, sneering and spitting, furrowing and creasing his filthy forehead. Muscles straining, he leapt forwards and nearly collapsed, but he somehow maintained his balance and crept further and further up. Repeatedly, he stumbled and staggered, nearly tripping and topping forward, but he always righted himself and hacked. His shoulders racked; his chest heaved. Suddenly, he leaned forward, plunging to the ground and vomiting blood. Shriveling, he hunched over, his ripped clothes exposing his bony spine, which protruded from his bruised flesh. Pivoting, he bathed in his waste and eyed their forms with ironic pleasure. He smirked, reminding her of his younger self, but his irises flickered and moved, showing his vulnerability.

Mutely, she simply watched as Cara entered the interrogation room and barely spared the rest of his prison a glance—even though waste lingered in the corners of his prison, broken furniture laid all over the place, and his torn, filthy sheets decorated the metallic table.

Jeering, he crawled forwards and snaked around her once. His bones protruded from his flesh; his sunken eyes flashed with emotion before receding and blackening. As the two scrutinized each other, Calder trembled and convulsed before dropping to the ground and letting his tremors slither down his form. Cara barreled forward, screaming for help. Without hesitating, Delia rushed forward with her arms extended—with power emanating from her chest and dispersing to the tips of her fingers. When she moved forward to touch him, he jumped backward, eyes rolling from side-to-side, tongue flicking back-and-forth. His jaw trembled, but his convulsions subsided. Unwillingly, he rubbed his soiled face and brushed away his fallen tears.

"I don't n-need y-your h-help," he uttered without his usual mocking malice. He enveloped himself, rocking back-and-forth. "I d-don't n-need a-anyone."

He whispered to himself, sounding frenzied and panicked.

They promptly left.

Leah whizzed past the wardens and her companions and entered the prison cell without remorse; she snagged his arms, hauling him up and then back. She pressed him against the wall and banged his head against it.

"Speak! Don't you dare act like this! You don't have any right!" Leah shouted. "You've ruined so many lives, and you don't deserve to pity yourself! And you don't deserve our pity either! Speak! Why were they trying to kill you?"

He gurgled, staring directly at her but not being able to really see her.

"Why did they try to murder you? Talk!" Leah bellowed, digging her nails into his flesh.

"It's t-time. It's time," he repeated, eyes prowling the vicinity.

"Why did they try to kill you?"

"Darling, he won't answer," Drakon whispered, slithering his hands onto her fists and gradually untangling them, releasing the critter who immediately slouched against the wall, muttering incoherently and staring straight into her eyes.

"It's time. It's time," he mumbled. "It's time."

"Come on," Drakon coaxed. "He's too sick to answer. When he's better, we'll interrogate him and he'll pay for everything."

Leisurely, she plodded toward the entrance, and, when she glanced back at him, his irises flashed with recognition and knowledge.

 _"It started."_

* * *

It stormed and thundered and clapped with lightening. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around her bent legs; she hummed under her breath and ignored the sound of roaring winds and seething lightning. Leah peered from the back seat and leaned forward, watching her mother talk with Sarah Black, who joked and made her stomach ache from laughing.

Until Sarah shrieked. Until her mother threw Leah back. Until their car flew back, becoming compacted and compressed—squashed in between two large trees and a moving truck, twisted to the side, destroyed completely from the driver side, marred from the passenger side, and jostled slightly from the backseat. Groaning, she touched her head, blood soaking her hair, blood running down her head and dripping onto her exposed knees. Her sides ached; her head pounded; her heart hammered.

"Leah!"

"I'm okay," she responded, shaken.

"Sarah!"

No response.

"Aunty Sarah."

Silence.

Suddenly, she heard her mother weeping inconsolably. She tried to smother her cries, but she ultimately screeched and screamed and cursed and agonized. Leah twisted, ignoring her aches, ignoring the clogging in her throat, ignoring the dropping of her stomach.

"Leah, don't!"

But it was too late. She saw the deformed corpse with a demented face-shape, with protruding bones, with torn skin, with blood leaking from her wounds, with a gaping, gasping mouth, with one whitened eye, with one fallen eye, with her head wide open, with her hair yanked to one side, with her neck lulling to one side, with her collarbone completely shattered, with her chest compacted, with her shoulders sunken, with her legs twisted, with her soul soaring.

Leah vomited before fainting.

* * *

It was too much.

She couldn't deal with it.

Upon seeing the coffin with the casket closed completely—sealed and bandaged completely, lifeless and spiritless—she sobbed and leaned into her mother. Leah covered her mouth in a vain attempt to suppress her cries, but she ultimately wept and fell to her knees. She watched with remorse when Jacob Black launched himself at the closed coffin, demanding and pleading to see his mother for the last time, screeching and bellowing as his distressed father attempted to control him and allow them to lower the casket, crying profusely as his father finally grabbed him, weeping as his father dragged him away, whining as the casket got lower and lower. Filled with sorrow, Billy Black crumpled, hugging and apologizing to his son.

 _It was too much._

* * *

It was midnight.

And she awoke, frightened, with her heart fluctuating, mouth widening, pupils dilating.

Aghast, she promptly righted herself, but she rapidly crouched and readied herself to pounce on her attacker. But she straightened when Drakon traipsed forward, directing himself with ease through the woodlands and glancing at the treetops with an emotion she could not decipher. Throat dry, she let him snag her wrist and tow her along. He led her through the woods, and she followed sluggishly. Leah stumbled and barely stopped herself from panicking. Bordering on hyperventilation, her knees buckled, betraying her as she hunched over. Tentatively, he enveloped her before tilting her chin up and filling her with a sense of security.

Carefully, she rose and walked beside him. Leah faltered when she passed the concerned guards assembled at the headquarters. They gravely eyed her. Squaring her shoulders, she zoomed past them and entered her packed room. Everyone was there, including the children.

"Leah, are you okay?" Artemisia questioned while lunging forward, embracing her, and letting the kids latch themselves onto her shaky legs.

Jittery, she lowered herself to their level and hugged them.

"I'm okay," she replied, distressed.

"No, you're not," Cara stated astutely. "You're worried. You don't know why this is happening. But you want it to end, even though you know that it won't end easily."

She stayed silent.

"Leah, please," Adara supplicated before hugging her. "Just tell us what's wrong. Alistair said he saw someone walking in the Dark Forest, and when we realized that you weren't here, we took a guess. Please, Leah, just tell us."

"Yesterday, I didn't have any nightmares, but I noticed that my hands were dirty. I really didn't think anything about it," Leah confessed, wringing her wrists and closing her eyes. "I woke up outside—on the border of the Dark Forest—and I was afraid. I'm still afraid. But Drakon found me and brought me here."

"Any nightmares?" Ly inquired.

She affirmed and put her head on his shoulder.

"Drakon, where was she exactly?" Acacia asked curiously.

"She was lying in between two trees," he answered.

"And what did Alistair see her doing?" Acastus questioned.

"She entered the passageway, walked through the field, managed to pass the guards, and stood by the border. She sat down, hunched over, and looked around before humming and then walking to the trees. She lied down and woke up there," Drakon reported.

"Leah, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, but do your actions describe the ones that happened in your dream?" Admes asked.

She confirmed it.

"Leah, can we monitor you? To see what you do and where you go? We need to know why this is happening to you—unless you don't want us to. It's completely up to you," Aristo offered.

"I want this to end and, if you think you can stop this or at least figure out what's happening with me, then I give you permission to monitor me," Leah replied.

"I'll stay with you, Leah," Cara mentioned.

"And we will, too," Carmeine chimed, volunteering Gwendolyn, Lailah and Seraphina.

"I'll monitor Cyrena and the children with Delia, Acacia and Acastus," Nicodemus reported.

"And we'll be around, guarding, if anyone needs anything," Alcander commented, referring to Aristo, Admes, Micah and Drakon.

"And we'll be in the headquarters finalizing some plans with Alistair, Radley and Damien," Adara orated.

"Thanks," Leah stated gratefully but nervously.

"You're welcome, Leah. You're part of the family after all," Ly proclaimed before patting her shoulders and kissing her forehead in a fatherly fashion.

Everyone left, excluding her group.

"Now, we'll shut off the lights and wait for you to go to sleep," Lailah said.

"Maybe a lullaby will help?" Carabelle suggested.

"Just like old times," Leah mentioned, making her smile nostalgically.

"Just like old times," she confirmed.

An alluring aria sounded, persuading her into lying down, into settling against Sera and Lailah, Gwendolyn and Charmeine—all of whom smoothed down her messy hair, rubbed circles on her palms and hummed along, making her become drowsy and lethargic. Finally, she reposed.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading! Thank you, guest reviewer, brankel1, and Demoness-MarlstonWells69ner for reviewing! I really appreciate it!

To Demoness-MarlstonWells69ner, the pack will make slight appearances, just for us to see what's happening while Leah is away. They have very minor parts, but they'll show up. Thank you for reviewing! :)

Next update will be in two days!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: _Extraction_

As she traversed the woods, she giggled and glowed with happiness; she paraded with Cara, who suddenly squealed when Artemis tickled her sides and dashed away, cackling with laughter. Drakon seized her hand, helping her through and snorting when she switched positions with him; she burst through the tree-line, whooping and whistling as she savored the sudden blast of heat.

The distinct scent of sea salt—combined with a warm breeze, white sand, which squished under her bare feet, a soft spray of ocean water, a faint stirring of the ocean-life beneath the surface, which created gentle ripples on the surface—caused her to hop with elation; she attentively brushed the surface with her palms, gaping with wonder at the surreal beauty of the beach.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Leah vocalized before hugging him and burying her face in the crook of neck.

"You're welcome, but you've already been here before."

Features contorting with astonishment, she hopped backward, wheezing and billowing with embarrassment when his previously blonde hair darkened significantly, when his rounded features curved, when his cerulean irises blackened, when his pallid complexion became russet, when his body elongated and became skinny and awkward from the lack of lean muscles. Her smile faltered and faded; her cheeks reddened and dropped; her previously enlightened eyes lost their gleam.

"I'm sorry. I-I must have gotten confused," she apologized, rubbing her neck with her jittery palms.

"It's alright, Leah," Sam amended. "Your head is always in the clouds, which is great and wonderful and—oh, I'm sounding insulting. I'm sorry. I just—"

"It's fine, Sam. Thank you for the compliment," she remedied, chortling when his cheeks flushed.

Without warning, she grabbed his hands and towed him along, forcing him into the ocean. He screamed when she tackled him onto the sand and pulled his legs; he squawked, laughing when his stomach touched the refreshing water. Following her lead, he flung water in her direction. Leah squealed and sped forwards. He moved, causing her to fall face-first.

"You're going to pay for that!" Leah exclaimed, drawing her friends forward.

Rebecca and Rachael attacked Paul, who had thrown sand at their hair; he shrieked and skipped forward, seeking refuge among their parents—all of whom dodged him and left him to the mercy of the twins. Cackling darkly, the two forcefully propelled him back. They grunted when he dug his nails into the sand, but they snorted when Jared volunteered and rubbed sand on his back. He yelled and screamed for help.

Five-year-old Seth wobbled forward, pointing at Paul and giggling with mirth when the older boy stuck his tongue to the side and pretended to die. Suddenly, Seth erupted with laughter when Paul started spitting sand and cursing the twins who maliciously smirked and cast him inside.

Leah tackled Sam, bringing him underwater and then hauling him up when he gurgled and choked. His eyes closed; his chest deflated; his cheeks drooped.

"Sam!" Leah shouted before hollering with fright.

"I can't believe you fell for it," he said, chuckling.

"That's not funny, Sam. Don't do that ever again," Leah stated roughly, eyes watering.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think," Sam apologized, hugging her. "I promise I won't do that ever again."

"Good," she deadpanned before catching a glimpse of a bobbling head diving underwater and staying there. Unconsciously, she swam forward, searching for her baby brother, who had suddenly disappeared.

"Seth!" her mother screamed. "Seth, baby, where are you?"

With dread settling at the pit of her stomach, she dove into the water, ripping through the tides and forcing her eyes to widen; she pumped her legs forwards and spotted a lone figure sitting at the very bottom. Leah swam towards him, perturbed when her brother waved and talked animatedly.

"There's fishes!" he exclaimed, excited.

"Seth, h-how—"

"I heard singing, Le," he remarked while accepting her welcoming and protective embrace. "It was pretty. But it stopped. I want to hear it, Le."

Stiffening, she wandered up and broke through the current; she ushered him towards the shore and eyed him when he riveted the ocean with awe.

"I want to hear it, Le," he repeated.

"Seth, baby, never—and I repeat never—do that again! You nearly gave me a heart attack," her mother declared, kissing his cheeks and moving onto Leah, who glanced back at the ocean. "Baby, do you hear me? Never do that again!"

"I won't, mommy," he promised.

"What were you doing, Seth?" her father questioned.

"I wanted to see the fishes!" Seth remarked, clasping his hands together and glancing at Leah. She stiffened, staring at her younger brother who suddenly bore his expectant gaze into her own.

"He wanted to see the fishes," she defended.

"Well, son, we can always go together. You're too young to be by yourself," her father stated. "Now, let's get you dried off, and then we'll eat."

"Yay!" Seth replied. He bounced towards the picnic basket and pulled out his sandwich but not before pausing and glancing at the ocean. Grinning broadly, he munched on his sandwich, but with determination, she tiptoed back to the shore and noticed that the waves became clearer. Uncontrollably, she smiled, whistling with excitement.

* * *

Leah giggled with mirth sparking and sparkling in her gaze, with her stomach aching with overexertion from laughing, with her cheeks stained with rouge, with her features softening significantly, with her spirit becoming lovelier and livelier. Beaming broadly, she swiveled and spun and spiraled with pure ecstasy. She watched with wonder when her white gown flared and flitted behind her; she grinned when the silver gems lining her bodice glistened, catching the light perfectly. She stopped, nearly screeching when her window flew open.

"Sam, you nearly gave me a heart attack," Leah commented before gasping. "Sam, you have to leave! Don't look! Turn around!"

"Leah, that's just a myth," he remarked, laughing when she swatted him.

"Turn around!"

"Fine, anything for my future wife," he complied, snickering when she thwacked the back of his head and ran into her closet to change.

"Now you have to pretend that you never saw me," she disclosed.

"But, Leah—"

"No, I don't want any bad luck!" Leah exclaimed worriedly. "Every time the future husband sees his future wife, something bad happens."

"Leah, if you're worried about me changing my mind—I won't," he promised while embracing her. "Just as long as you don't change your mind, I won't change mine."

"Promise?" she questioned, eyes enlarging.

"Promise," he declared, smiling down at her.

* * *

With her heart banging against her chest and threatening to burst through, she zoomed past the tree-line and marched into the profundities of the forest. Having lived there for the entirety of her life, she maneuvered through the woods without stumbling or staggering or retracting when she heard sticks snapping behind her. Leah simply pivoted on her heels, staring blankly at the figure who emerged from the bushes with leaves tousling his newly cropped hair, with dirt streaking down his muscular frame, with mud lining his cheeks. He stared at her from afar, tensing up but ultimately relaxing. He walked forwards and embraced her. Without hesitating, she buried her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. Without hesitating, he planted loving, chaste kisses over her face.

"What's happening?" Leah asked quietly.

"I-I would rather not say," Sam orated. "You would look at me differently, and I just want to forget. I just want you, Leah. And soon, we'll get married."

"Once Emily gets here, we'll get married," she verbalized.

But dread swarmed her. Everything had changed.

* * *

Squealing, she propelled herself forwards and launched herself at her cousin, Emily, who shrieked with joy and giggled when Leah spun them around.

"Lee!" Emily exclaimed.

"Emmy!" Leah shouted.

"So, Lee, I'm obviously honored to be your bridesmaid, but where is your future husband-to-be?" Emily questioned, chuckling and then guffawing when her cousin screamed. Leah swatted her chortling boyfriend who swung her around and around. When he finally set her down, he kissed the top of her head.

"Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear," Leah remarked before tittering when her boyfriend tickled her sides and glued her to his side. "Okay, Emmy, this is Sam. Sam, this is Emmy. My finacé finally meets my soul sister."

"Nice to meet you," Emily stated.

"Nice to finally meet—"

He stopped, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth; he practically absorbed her appearance, admiring and cherishing her for her high cheekbones, the natural glisten and liveliness of her eyes, her long, straight locks and stunning smile. Her smile momentarily faltered but flared when he quickly composed himself.

"Nice to finally meet you."

* * *

Weeping, with snot dripping from her nostrils, with red-stained cheeks and eyes, she ran away from the top of the hill and rolled down the land without any care; the sound of his declarations, of his easy refusal of their love, of his tempting but disappointing words, of his passionate voice, lingered in her ears, poisoning her. Leah sprinted away. Jaw jutting and hurting, hands clenching and unclenching with humiliation, muscles constraining, she slowed down and entered her house without speaking to her father who promptly ran after her. He limped and screamed at her to stop. But she continued. Tears gushed from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks, blurring her vision and temporarily relieving her of re-watching that conniving creature from repeating his actions.

"Leah, what's wrong?"

She stayed silent, feeling nauseated.

"Leah, baby, tell me what's wrong!"

"H-he cheated. H-he loves Emily. H-he told her," she uttered, stumbling over her words.

He retracted, inhaling sharply.

"Leah, I'm sorry," he said before hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do it," she replied. "You didn't do anything. He did."

"But I did," he murmured. "He wasn't right for you. And I should have told you. I shouldn't have done what I did. I'm sorry."

"No, daddy," she whispered.

"I hope you can forgive me someday. But I know you haven't missed your chance. There's someone out there who truly loves you. I swear," he promised.

She stayed silent.

* * *

It should have given her satisfaction—but it didn't.

Her face was swollen, deformed from one half and perfectly contoured on the other; her right eye slanted, sloping downward, trailing and following the deep laceration that marred her swarthy complexion. The corner of her mouth drooped, permanently forming a frightened grimace; the flesh was punctured and puckered and scarred for the rest of her life.

It should have given her satisfaction—but it didn't.

It really didn't. All she felt was sorrow and pity.

She envisioned herself running forward to embrace her in one of their signature embraces; she envisioned her gripping her hands together—tightly at first, desperately but tenderly, before loosening her hold and erupting with emotion. She envisioned the two begging and talking and interrupting each other and mending their bond; she envisioned herself briefly consoling her—but she knew Emily would take the job herself, would wave off her concerns and shield her instead, would briefly feel self conscious but would laugh off her concerns. Because Emily was motherly, protective of her own. She envisioned herself running. But she didn't. Because it was too late.

Sam wept, supplicating and pleading and loathing but ultimately stopping and staring at Emily, who rubbed his hands together and consoled him.

Without any hesitation, Leah left.

* * *

After shifting, she hastened, hurrying past the forest, leaping over fallen trunks, following their trail, and seeking relative peace and comfort in her surroundings—in the slight whoosh of the wind, in the hoots of the wildlife, in the crunching of the leaves beneath her paws, in the snapping of twigs, in the placid babble of the river stationed near the center of the forest, in the quiet laughter of young children. She stretched, eyes darting between the tree-line and the rest of the forest.

Suddenly, displeasing and unwelcome memories penetrated her barriers; the scarred lover straddled her mate, nipping his neck, biting down on the delicate flesh and imprinting her mark onto his skin. Growling with pleasure, he pinned her against their shared covers, rubbing and touching every available region with his greedy, expectant fingers. She moaned with elation when he exposed her further.

Abruptly, they vanished. And she escaped.

* * *

She soared.

And she was weightless.

Until she plunged through the surface of the ocean, diving deeper and deeper into the profundities before panicking and floating upward; she broke through the surface, gasping but feeling more alive than ever before.

When she reached the coast, she quickly dried off and trudged through the woods. She stopped and turned, choosing instead to speed through the main road with the intention of enjoying her time alone—without having her pack members hovering above her shoulders and invading her personal thoughts. As she walked, she passed by a group of people who quickly quieted and stared at her back. Once she zipped by, they whispered, claiming that she had changed and become a prostitute for the La Push Gang. And she simply jutted her jaw and gritted her teeth. Her so-called friends from high school were in that group, spreading vicious rumors and proclaiming that she was loose on the legs.

She swallowed thickly before hastening home, running to the entrance and banging the door against the hinge. Respiring shallowly, she caught a glimpse of her mother slumping her shoulders, practically bending over her knees and staring mindlessly at her full cup of coffee. She sipped and closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers over her throbbing temples.

"Where were you?" her mother asked.

"I had patrol and went cliff diving," she responded.

"How was it?"

"Good."

"Leah, you still haven't opened what your father left for you," her mother remarked, pointing to her unopened package.

"I'll open it soon," she deflected.

"Leah, your father—"

"Mom, I have patrol tomorrow morning. It's late. I need to sleep," she commented before bolting up the staircase and plodding to her bedroom and closing the door behind her and quickly pouncing on her sheets and shielding herself with her covers and closing her eyes tightly.

She couldn't do it.

* * *

Knees buckling, she collapsed from the pressure hovering over her shoulders, which slumped and hunched and arched completely, following the curve of her body. Her eyelids palpitated; her fingers trembled; her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, alternating between screaming and shrieking to the top of her lungs or shutting completely and evading the truth. Gulping, she tried to rise, but she fell and crumbled. She settled into her fetal position with her knees touching her chin, with her chest rising and descending spastically, with her breaths billowing erratically and desperately. Clawing her chest, she gnawed on her chapped lips before ripping them further and drawing blood. Her mouth closed; her fists closed; her heart closed.

She rose without speaking, without hesitating.

She was infertile.

And she breathed shallowly before respiring normally.

 _Forget it. Just forget it._

And she never spoke of it.

* * *

Her name was Lila.

She was a budding beauty with long, dark eyelashes, which delicately brushed the tops of her rosy cheeks, a bundle of straight raven hair, luminescent, swarthy skin, and wide eyes—which were a blessed shade of caramel.

Her name was Lila.

Already, she had a sweet, placid disposition. She meowed and mewled quietly instead of screeching to the top of her lungs. No, she was much too sweet to scream.

Her name was Lila.

She admired her mother, who, even though she had been in labor for hours, cradled her, nurtured her, loved her. Slowly, she smiled with fatigue at her father, who swept her tendrils to the side, who wordlessly vowed to protect her, whose eyes sparkled with tenderness, with affection, with love.

Her name was Lila.

"Do you want to hold her?" he asked cautiously.

Unconsciously, she moved forward, receiving the young, yawning baby in her arms.

"She's beautiful," she commented without emotion.

Beautiful like her mother. Beautiful like Emily.

Her name was Lila, meaning Lily, meaning beauty, meaning love.

Her name was Lila.

It was the name she had chosen when they were going steady, but he had forgotten. It was now the name that had appeared in a dream, had appeared casually, had sounded nice and pleasant.

Her name was Lila.

And she was not her daughter.

 _But she was as beautiful as a lily flower._

* * *

It had started.

While quacking and perspiring profusely, she awakened beneath the shadows residing near the Tree of Life. She cowered and grimaced and squinted; she backtracked when she the menacing obscurity snaked forwards, but she stopped when the luminescence coming from the Tree of Life blighted it. The remaining traces rapidly congregated, but Cara manipulated the splendor and vanquished the oppressive force.

"Are you okay?" Seraphina asked.

She nodded, shaken. She fell unconscious.

When she resurfaced, she jolted and rushed to the interrogation center. Huffing, she banged the door item and purposefully neared his cell. But she stopped. Behind her, her friends froze, mouths gaping open.

He walked with his eyes closed. His mouth opened, spewing incoherent whispers and murmurs which grew frantic and panicked and frightful; he screeched before chuckling ironically, desperately, brokenly. Calder extended his arms, staring down at his hands before jutting his jaw, before creasing his forehead, before whimpering and withering and collapsing and crying.

Leah stormed forward and roughly pinned him against the ground, scrubbing his torn rags over his waste; she clamped her hands over his shoulders before positioning her knees on his torso. He tensed but remained unconscious.

"Why is this happening? You know why it's happening. I know you do. You weren't the second-in-command for no reason. Talk!"

Calder remained silent, maintaining his stoic expression which promptly morphed, becoming more sinister and expectant. Without hesitating, he swept his legs from side-to-side, making her teeter and topple backward; he bolted forward, tackled her to the ground and pressed her pressure points. Before he could incapacitate her, her friends pounced, but she managed to kick his groin. He fell, holding himself but simpering maliciously.

"Trying to take advantage of a crippled man?" Calder taunted. "So unlike you—or is it like you? From what I've heard, you've been particularly nasty recently, not only to your pack mates but also your precious mate—but even that's a sore spot for you. You've become friends, but you know that's not what he wants. Eventually, he'll want more, and you won't be able to give him anything because you're an empty, infertile shell. You—"

Without thinking, she lacerated him. He gnarled but stayed silent and glared at her from afar.

"Don't listen to him, Leah," Lailah remarked with revulsion twisting her features.

"He's projecting. Anything he says is what he really feels about himself," Charmeine stated.

"Come on, Leah. He won't say anything now," Carabelle commented while ushering her away from the cackling creature who rolled forward.

"And you can't force me, little Cara, because your powers are wavering again. I'm sure you haven't told anyone about your condition," he stated before simpering loudly and clapping. "I'm correct, aren't I? Nobody knew. Well, I'm sure they'll try to guard the Tree of Life, but it won't be any use. They're getting closer. And they'll win, my dearest Cara."

"My condition? You're losing track of time," Carabelle dead-panned. "Being trapped here has clearly messed with your head—has clearly brought you to the brink of insanity. I'm perfectly fine. But you're not. And you're projecting. Any other time, I would've pitied you, but you only disgust me. Every time I see your face, I want to throw up. You're vile. You're evil—practically the spawn of Satan. Who else would kill their mate for pleasure?"

His body contorted horrendously; his back arched upward, leading his entire body forward. But he kept his head firmly planted into the ground with his visage facing the side. He stared directly at them and impaled them with his turbulence. Hurriedly, his wrists snapped to the sides, sternly keeping his upper body upright and twisting in a manner that exposed his bones further. While elongating his spine, his legs bent up, and his ankles faced opposite sides.

"I never—he n-never—"

And he started choking, gurgling on his saliva and drowning in self-revulsion and aversion.

Leah exited the vicinity and awaited with bated breath. But he quickly recovered, sweating and perspiring, coughing and hacking, spitting and swallowing his disastrous sentiments.

And yet, he never failed.

It had started.

She swallowed thickly, barely restraining herself from screaming, scarcely suppressing herself from cowering and curling into herself.

* * *

It had started.

She started breathing heavily.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Shivering, swallowing, simpering lowly, she bounced back-and-forth until she unsteadily escalated and stared at the withering, weathering figure who laid on the floor, with his bent knees touching his chest, with his teeth clattering, with his eyelids fluttering erratically, with her lips forming incoherent whispers, with his forehead leaking perspiration, with his chest heaving. He hyperventilated before convulsing.

Abruptly, his eyes snapped, showing unadulterated heed. His veins popped against his head; his muscles thickened; his throat constricted.

She looked away, feeling unsettled, feeling restless.

Warm, welcoming arms encircled her, soothing her. She settled against his chest, pushing her head into the crook of her neck, where she sighed and loosened. Surrendering, she slackened completely, relying wholeheartedly on him and the rest of her companions who quickly environed her and whispered such lovely promises.

"Feeling better?" Drakon questioned, chest rumbling.

"A bit," she answered before cracking a grateful smile.

"Don't worry, Leah," Artemisia commented. "We'll figure everything out soon. It's only a matter of time before he cracks."

"He already cracked," Leah murmured, "but he can't say anything. He's borderline insane. He's filled with grief, with misery, with sorrow, but he doesn't—or can't—say anything. Did you see his reaction yesterday? Did you see it?"

"He looked repressed," Seraphina confirmed.

"He started choking on thin air. He couldn't say anything," Lailah asserted.

"You're right," Charmeine responded, "but how do we get him to confess if there is an outside force affecting him?"

"Painfully," Alcander remarked.

"Perhaps we should find another—"

"No, it's alright," Drakon interrupted without glancing at his distressed mother who slid forward with the intention of touching his wrists. She faltered and stared at his hardened features. "I'll do it."

"And I'll help," Alcander voiced.

"You can count on me," Micah proclaimed.

"Along with myself of course," Ly verbalized after clamping his hands onto his shoulders.

Once they entered, Calder sneered and crawled forwards. But he stopped when he vomited a fresh cascade of blood which stuck to his exposed flesh.

Calder sat on the ground, barely sparing them another look as he smeared his own filth across his body. Mutely, Micah pressed his palms on his forehead and closed his eyes; he infiltrated his mind, poking and prodding his mental barrier until his defenses creaked and cracked and fractured at the sides. Micah slithered through and explored his mind. Cautiously, he moved forward and fought his forces, managing to vanquish the menacing darkness guarding his insides. Driven, he marched through, inserting his own darkened essence inside his mind and straining the bonds flowing through his head. He reached the central one, which pulsated with an intensity that momentarily startled him. Outside, Calder shrieked, clawing through his chest and scratching his own eyes with feverish intent. Micah attempted to pervade it, but his eyes suddenly scorched and his heart burned; he rapidly retracted, chest heaving and hammering.

"You c-can't g-get in," Calder snarled. "You w-won't b-be able to."

Without pausing, Alcander summoned painful memories which quickly evaporated and began shifting into pleasant ones; he conjured his own darkness, making wisps of pure, unadulterated heed stress his bonds and his mind. His head pounded; his nose poured blood; his heart raced. Without hesitating, he repeated horrid visions which made him squirm and recoil. He encountered the resonating bond and severed it, making him cower and coil around and around. Alcander screeched and backtracked, sweating and perspiring when the scorching sensation overtook his mind and reminded him of his delicate situation; his loved ones died in his mind—killed by the rebels.

"Too d-dark?"

And he chuckled before spitting.

He seized his shoulders, steadying and rectifying them before raising his chin and forcefully focusing his gaze into his own. Ly touched his temples before pressing them and allowing his own essence to pervade his newly created defenses. Tearing through, he inserted his essence which instantly began influencing him; he screeched and bellowed and yelled. Grazing the bond, he extracted himself slightly before motioning Drakon forward; he rapidly ripped through his bonds, saving the last one until the very last moment. He produced a strong orb of darkness which quickly swept through, serrating the bond and severing the lassos. Together, all four defeated it. And Calder flailed, bleeding and vomiting and finally fainting.

Delia sprinted forward, checking his vitals and rejuvenating him. Immediately, he respired normally—but his face contorted with anguish; his bruises lightened and whitened, becoming nonexistent and complimenting his complexion, which rapidly regained a healthy glow and became unmarked. Instantly, his lacerations sealed, healing and scarring before thinning, shrinking and disappearing. The sweat that lined his forehead evaporated, becoming a mere memory. While breathing normally, his chest ascended and descended slowly but normally.

He looked younger, calmer—more innocent.

"He'll be ready soon," Delia spoke.

Consenting, the horde of immortals rested nearby, watching as Acacia and Acastus flicked their wrists and cleansed the region of his filth and waste. Wavering, Micah wobbled but crouched and cradled his throbbing temples. Eagerly, Alcander walked forwards and hugged Cara; she leaned into his touch before anxiously wrapping her arms around his hands and muttering beautiful reassurances. Ly aided his son and watched as his previously darkened features hardened, becoming stoic and steely as he inspected the regenerating figure; the bile coating his body evaporated, making him scrunch his nose and flare his nostrils. Leah wandered forward, resting her hands on his forearms and watching as his muscles tensed but gradually slackened.

He awakened, groggy and bleary-eyed. Swallowing, he rose and inspected his adversaries before glancing down at his regenerated figure. He stared, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed. Quickly, his head snapped upward, mirroring the rapid movement of his legs and arms; he lunged, nearly pouncing on Delia, who quickly swept his legs beneath his form and kneed his groin. Nicodemus charged, gripping his forearms and forcing him down.

"What did you do?" he screeched indignantly. "What did you do?"

"You should be thanking me," Delia hissed.

"That was my punishment. That was my burden. And you ruined it, you conniving little bit—"

In a flash, Nico punched him, making him growl.

"Calder, what's happening?" Carabelle questioned; her voice sounded harmonious and melodious—soothing and coaxing and persuasive.

"N-nightmares," he whispered before gurgling and choking.

"Elaborate," she ordered.

He resisted, repressing himself from speaking.

"You have no one, Calder. Even your gracious leader despises you; he wants to kill you. Your subordinates want to kill you. You have nothing to lose."

"You're absolutely right, my dearest Cara. Well, my gracious leader obviously knows that she's here. It's not hard. I obviously knew and came against his orders. He didn't know I was coming. And I guess that he thought I betrayed him," Calder responded, impassive.

"And you're going to betray him today," she declared. "Tell us everything."

He nodded, confusing them.

"He knows she's here. And he knows that she's attached to everyone. So he decided to hit her where it hurts the most. He's giving Cyrena potent nightmares. And it seems like he knows that Leah hates being out of control of her own body. Over the course of the next few days, he'll probably increase the strength of her nightmares. As for myself—well, he knows that I was going to betray him eventually. You guys probably don't believe me, but we all know that Drakon couldn't have captured me that easily; we all know that I could've escaped if I really wanted to."

"Why?" Drakon questioned, jaw jutted.

"Because this is my punishment. This is my burden. And I hate him. I really hate him."

"Why?" he promoted.

"He killed her. But I let her get killed. I shouldn't have let it happen. But I didn't think it would happen. He promised. He promised. He promised," Calder repeated, lips trembling.

"He promised that he wouldn't kill her?" Leah inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"He promised," he confirmed while shivering. "He said he would keep her alive. She was intelligent. She was strong and talented and knowledgeable. She was perfect. He wanted her in our ranks; he knew she would be powerful, but he also knew that she would never consent to it. And he knew her gift was extremely powerful. So he sent me in to test me. And I failed. But he promised. He promised. And he killed her. Tortured her. Murdered her. And he asked me to carry her. I c-can s-still remember how she felt, how cold she was, how lifeless and spiritless. I should've done something. Anything."

"But he would've killed you," Artemisia pointed out, trying to pinpoint his fluctuating behavior.

"And if I could go back in time, I would change everything. I would free her. I would do anything, even if it cost me my life."

"Anything?" Aristo questioned.

"Well, I'm confessing, aren't I?"

"Because I used my gift," Carabelle remarked.

"But you all know I would've come around eventually. I was going to earlier, but the bond was preventing me," he commented, eyes downcast.

"And how did you know that I was here exactly?" Leah asked.

"Well, it wasn't hard to know. The magic used was ancient but really detectable. I'm guessing the elders of your pack didn't know the strength of the spells," he said casually.

"Elders?" Leah questioned.

"Well, we can't perform that type of magic. It doesn't belong to us," he divulged, alarming and astonishing her.

"No, that can't be right," she whispered. "You guys said—"

She spun and rotated and roared with affliction.

"But you guys implied it. He's lying. He's lying."

And darkness inundated her.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading! I really appreciate it!

Next update will be in two days!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: _Harry Clearwater_

She lost herself, slipping and sliding, tumbling and toppling over until she dove headfirst and landed.

It was dark; it was ominous; it was a bad omen.

When she sprouted, she towered above the slithering creatures who neared her, hissing, screeching, snapping and scaling. Exhaling, she cautiously, guardedly, and very deliberately, maneuvered through the woods, slinking into the shadows but, after noticing that the shapes in the obscurity grew taller, she hurled herself into the few rays of light streaming through the canopy; she followed the familiar passage, jeering when thorns scratched her bare feet, sneering when the animals posed themselves above her head, nipping and biting, lurching and jerking forward. Prudently, she ducked and snatched one from the-tops before lashing out and murdering it. With impressive speed, she bolted forwards, then backwards, and she repeated thrice before stopping and glancing at the tangled mess behind her.

Without hesitating, she pursued the haze trailing through the forest. Leah followed the familiar passageway and stopped in front of a rickety bridge standing in between two pieces of land and lying above a turbulent river, which spewed angrily, rising and shaking the entire land. Exhaling, she stepped forwards, jolting backwards when her toes touched thorns. The river roared; the darkness howled; the bridge blustered.

Abruptly, she stopped.

She heard voices.

Leah listened, capturing the sound of booming blasts, of blusterous clamors, of hateful, self-loathing words, of racking sobs, of pitiful weeps, of guilty declarations, of whispered conversations and secrets, of carefully-concealed lies and rumors of salvation.

Swallowing, she instinctively retracted, back-tracking three paces and swaying towards the end.

And the obscurity transformed, morphing and showing her the past—of when her father lived. Aghast, Harry Clearwater reclined against the wall, holding his throbbing heart but staring directly at the figure lying limply underneath her covers, breathing deeply but scowling and tossing and turning. Beside him, her mother covered her mouth. Tears brimmed in her gaze. Seth grappled his head, concerned, but eventually his features distorted with fatigue and his head bobbed back-and-forth; his shoulders sagged, his eyelids drooped before closing completely. His body dropped until his back touched his bed.

Gulping, she moved four paces forwards, but she suddenly stopped when she saw two familiar presences living together; the two lovers molded their figures into each, clinging but bonding and loving. With his feathery touches, he successfully calmed her down, making her nestle herself further into his swarthy chest.

Leah stopped, hands fisted together, teeth gritted together, toes planted together.

But she breathed in. Then out. And continued. Until her hands slowly but surely loosened.

She tentatively stepped forward until she converged with the image of the two lovers; she barreled through, plummeting with force.

"I-I betrayed her. We betrayed her. We really shouldn't—"

"Emily, we have to move forward. Leah's strong. You know she is. I know she is," Sam orated.

"But—"

"No, Emily, we can't do anything to fix the past. And we belong together. We're soul mates. Our relationship would've happened one way or another," he interjected.

Leah watched, fascinated but repelled. Fascinated by her strength. Repelled by his actions—by his logic.

"I guess you're right," Emily whispered.

"I am, Emily, and it won't do you well to dwell on this for too long. We've all made mistakes, but it's our mistakes that shape who we are," Sam lectured before kissing her.

Leah wandered forward, watching and learning.

It was enlivening; it was enlightening; it was eternal.

And for the first time in her life, she understood.

She should never lower herself and accept a relationship in which she was not treated the way she deserved.

He had made her smile with his declarations, but he had never fallen through.

He had made her laugh, but her laughter was never permanent.

He had not stayed with her when her father died; he had abandoned her.

He had killed her.

His name was Sam Uley.

And she would no longer grieve over him.

* * *

Leah fell, traveling backward and toppling sideways until she dropped to her knees. She stared at the grief-stricken girl who racked with sobs and clamped her mouth shut. Her spine arched forwards, then upwards; her throat clogged; her legs contracted and shook; her arms tingled and trembled.

She whimpered and wailed, deplored and simmered, before glancing at the medium-sized package sitting beside her, taunting and tantalizing her, menacing and threatening her to the point where she grappled the roots of her hair and ripped large chunks. Blaring, she looked away before moving forwards and scratching her skin; she gnawed on her lip and watched as she bled.

While glowering, she hardened herself and mended the shattered pieces left behind. Sobered, she swiftly slunk away from the frayed picture of her deceased father, sniffling but ultimately recovering. With purpose and deliberation, she abandoned the packet he had left her.

And she never looked back.

* * *

Troubled, she abruptly awakened, teeth gritting, heart racing and then slowing down; she crouched, torso turned, pupils dilated, eyes narrowed into slits. Slowly, her ferocity receded, dimming and then dying, when she glanced at the hunched figure sitting by her bedside.

"You scared me."

"I'm sorry. But you looked so peaceful. So much like—"

She exhaled and inhaled and repeated.

 _So much like your old self_.

Jaw tightening, nose scrunching, eyes flaring with frustration and self-hatred, she turned away from her mother who controlled her respiration, neared her with her arms fully extended, with her fingers twitching with anticipation, with the sides of her mouth wrinkling and her legs shaking and trembling but slowly steading; she gulped, raising her hands with the intention of sweeping back her cropped hair and engulfing her and telling her that everything would eventually be alright—that not everything was lost, that there was plenty of hope and happiness and so much more left for her, but she stopped and stared at the rapid movement of her chest, at the erratic and spastic pants billowing from her mouth, at the animalistic glisten in her eyes—a murderous, self-loathing edge that frightened her, warned her.

"I n-need t-to g-go," she stuttered before hastening across the expanse of her bedroom, glancing back, shaking her head, jutting her jaw and promptly swooping down until she reached the ground and exploded.

And she didn't look back.

* * *

After patrolling, she sped back home and disguised herself in the obscurity before creeping into her neighbor's' backyard; she quietly marched to the end of the neighborhood, climbed the tree beside her house, and entered her bedroom through the window. Exhausted, she plopped herself down on her covers and forcibly dispelled the memories of booming laughter, of childish giggles, of outrageous bedtime stories, of pure elation. She tossed.

But it returned.

It was there. Right in front of her. Within reach. But she didn't touch it. She couldn't.

"No, no, no, no, no," she repeated while retreating. "No."

She backtracked and rotated before sprinting away. And she never looked back.

* * *

In a spontaneous act of desperation, her mother aggressively slammed her fists against the table, screaming and shouting, blaring and bellowing, cursing and cussing to the top of her lungs. But she slowly slumped over and quieted down. She stared blankly before eyeing her with her haunted but guilty gaze.

"Open it," she ordered.

"No."

"Open it," she demanded.

"No."

"Leah, your father—"

"You don't understand. And you never will. You just don't. No one understands. No one understands me. And yes, it's cliched and stupid and selfish of me to use that phrase and to keep 'stringing' this along, but no one understands my motives after I changed. It's always been 'Leah's a remorseless, self-centered bitch who ruins everyone's lives.' No one thinks about what happened to Leah. If any of those bastards ever experienced what I did, they would've died under the weight, but of course no one thinks about what happened to me because big alpha Sam found himself a dutiful housewife who cooks and cleans all day long and who manages to please him at night; they're all benefiting from that skank, while I suffer. And it's not even because of him. They never think about what dad's death did to me. How my life changed. How my reputation changed. How I'm the talk of the town. How those stupid bloodsuckers ruined my life. How screwed up this entire family is. So excuse me if I don't want to look at the package dad left me because I'm not ready. I thought you of all people would understand that. But I was wrong. But then again, when am I not?"

"Leah, please reconsider—"

And she walked away without looking back.

* * *

She slipped, tumbling and toppling over until she collided headfirst and landed.

Leah wandered forward before catching brief glimpses of her two parents whispering frantically with their shoulders hunched over their arched bodies, with their eyes collecting tears of pure frustration, with their features morphed and distorted with grief and misery and guilt. Cautiously, she neared them.

"We shouldn't have done it," her mother muttered. "We knew it was a bad idea. And we played with her fate."

"I just thought that maybe fate was wrong. That maybe she would've been perfectly happy here."

"But she doesn't belong here. She belongs there. And we forced her to come here—to stay here. And now she can't go back."

"But maybe—maybe she can be—"

"You know that's not true!" her mother exclaimed. "We messed up. We ruined her life. We pushed her to have these type of friends. We pushed her in his direction. We pushed her to be the perfect little girl we always wished for. And we screwed her over! She did everything we asked her to do and more—and what happened to her? She got screwed over! Her friends left her when she needed them. She's the La Push slut. They ruined her reputation. And her best friends left. And her boyfriend cheated on her with her cousin who happened to be one of her friends. And they're planning on getting married. And if that wasn't enough, she's invited to their marriage ceremony. And what else? Let's see. Oh yeah, she became a God-damned shapeshifter who can't have babies. And she's always wanted kids, Harry! She even picked out the name Lila—and guess what? Sam Uley wants that to be the name for his future child! And she always wanted to be an author—but now she won't be able to become one. She got accepted into a prestigious college—but no, she couldn't go. Just because she's a shapeshifter. And she has to help the tribe. But Leah's strong. And all of this hasn't broken her completely, but I'm afraid that if something else happens, she'll break. And we'll never be able to piece her back together, Harry. I'm worried."

"We ruined her," he murmured sullenly. "I know we did. If I hadn't been so afraid of what was happening to her, if we had just talked to her, if we had researched further, if we hadn't made that ritual, then she would've been truly happy. This wouldn't have happened. I-I—"

And he wept, heaving and sobbing, gasping and pleading.

"I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

"We both have equal blame," she soothed.

"And we can't fix this. We ruined our baby girl. We ruined her, Sue. How could we? We were supposed to love her, to help her, to guide her. Instead we damned her. We're bad parents."

Leah ran forward before tripping and falling and finally plunging.

* * *

It was sunrise.

From his peripheral vision, Leah slept peacefully with her lips curled; she nestled herself further against his neck, sighing and smiling broadly when his pallid arms encircled her waist, bringing her closer and closer until the tip of her nose grazed his rumbling chest, until the top of her head touched his chin, until she giggled and kissed his collarbone—to which he responded by pecking her forehead. Eyelashes fluttering, she beamed widely, tenderly, lovingly, at the blonde man embracing her.

"Good morning, darling," he greeted pleasantly; his voice deep with affection. His azure eyes blazed with the purest form of love he had ever seen.

"Good morning," she responded before stretching languidly and exposing her stomach. Quickly, he launched himself forward, encompassing her completely and then proceeding to tickle her sides; she squealed, swatting away his eager hands and crying with hilarity.

"Stop!" she screeched with laughter.

"Fine—but only if you kiss me," he wagered. When he grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkled, his forehead creased, and dimples dotted his cheeks; she nodded, smiling and chuckling and then screaming with elation when she ducked and dodged his expectant arms.

"Leah!" he whined before running forward and encircling her. "You little liar. Leah the liar—sounds fitting, don't you think?"

She giggled before spinning around and wrapping her arms around his neck—before elevating herself up and kissing him with sweet affection.

"Good?" she asked, watching as his cheeks flushed with color.

"Good," he murmured. She twittered with laughter and twirled out of his hold.

"We have to eat breakfast, visit your sister, who, according to Alcander, is going completely bonkers with her newfound obsession with caffeine; we have to manage to convince her to stop, then we have to pick up some flowers, get some groceries, come back to store them away, and then we have to start lunch, make sure our house is impeccable, and somehow manage to have everything ready right on time. It'll be completely doable if we start right now. And I do mean right—"

"Now," he finished before chortling. "You worry too much, Leah. I'm sure our parents won't mind eating late."

"I guess, but it's the principle—"

"Nope," he conveyed. "It's just you trying to be a perfectionist again. Paying attention to every little detail, which I find endearing obviously, but it's stressing you out. Just breathe in—"

"I am breathing," she interrupted. "Otherwise I would be dead."

"Ah, your sarcasm never fails to amuse me," he verbalized while hugging and kissing her. "I love you. And since I love you, it's my duty to make sure you're not wearing yourself thin. Relax, darling."

"Okay, but right after we finish lunch."

"Okay," he murmured against her lips. "And I think this would be a good time to remind you that your father is bringing over his fish, and your mother is bringing over the groceries we need for the lunch, and that Seth and Sera are bringing over the flowers, and my darling little sister finally crashed, so we don't need to go over anymore, but we have to have a bit of space cleared for her when Alcander comes over with her."

"So we have nothing to do?" she asked, wide-mouthed.

"Absolutely nothing."

"And you didn't say anything earlier because...?" she trailed off before glowering and furrowing her eyebrows, before crossing her hands and huffing and detangling herself from him.

"Because I think it's cute when you overreact. Being flustered suits you," he voiced before guffawing when she playfully swatted his shoulders.

"You're a horrible person."

"Thank you. I try," he joked, making her laugh and hug his midsection.

"But I still love you," she reassured him.

"Good because I still love you, too," he stated before kissing her forehead and moving her forward.

Frantically, Harry bolted and jumped out of his bed; he hurried, zooming across the corridor and entering her bedroom, where she laid, dark shadows lying beneath her eyelids, lines of exhaustion layering her forehead, wrinkles of frustration decorating the sides of her mouth. She snored before snapping up and crouching.

"Oh, dad, I'm sorry," she apologized.

"It's fine."

And he exited. But he looked back. And back. And back. Until his heart pulsated erratically.

* * *

Midnight approached. And the darkness inundated him. It threatened him; it admonished him; it endangered him.

While panting heavily, he traipsed forward, but he teetered and tottered until he tumbled over; he gasped before wheezing and steadying his palpitating heart. Distressed, Sue rushed forward, clamping her hands over his racking, heaving shoulders and forcing him to recline on her side.

"We have to do something. Anything. And I think I've found it."

"But your health—"

"I'm getting worse. But I don't matter. Leah does. If I can just finish this piece, then we'll be alright. She'll be alright. If I die, you can perform it. Promise me, Sue, that you'll perform it," he interrupted with determination.

"For our little girl. I swear," she promised solemnly.

"Then it's settled. She'll go back. And she'll be happy. I saw what was once her future. And I know that she'll be able to achieve it again. And she'll be happy."

* * *

It was time.

"Mom, I'll be back soon. I have to patrol," Leah announced before barreling toward the tree-line and bounding further and further into the forest.

It was time.

She started breathing heavily, with difficulty, until her respirations quickened and became shallow.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Deliberately, she slowed down her respiration, watching with satisfaction when her billowing pants transformed into profound exhalations; she marched forward, readying herself for the ritual before divulging into the chants and the hand motions. Determined, she commenced, murmuring under her breath before becoming louder and more pronounced and more precise with her incantations.

An effulgence erupted from her chest, spreading across her fingertips, dispersing to the very tips of her toes and extending to the top of her head; she exhaled and gazed at the splendor when it detached itself from her and inundated her surroundings. Leisurely, it hovered above the ground, seeking, searching, and then finding. It exploded.

And light overtook her.

Jittery, she rose and waited. Until Jacob dashed forward with the rest of his pack mates. Until Seth screamed with hysteria. Until Paul lamented. Until Jared shook his head. Until Brady and Collin grieved. Until Embry sighed with anguish. Until Quil grimaced. Until Sam and Emily bounded forward.

"What happened?" she inquired, freighting concern.

"I f-found her," Seth stammered. "She w-was just l-lying there. I-I thought—it doesn't matter. But I-I don't k-know w-what happened so I c-called for h-help."

"Bring her to her room. I'm sure she's just exhausted. She's been working extra shifts non-stop," Sue verbalized before encompassing her son and rubbing his tense shoulders. He heaved and sobbed before composing himself and climbing the staircase. Following closely behind, she schooled her features.

While blinking quickly, she crawled to her bedside and tucked her in; she swept back her grimy hair and kissed her forehead. Sue hummed under her breath and took her hand in her own. Gulping, she convinced herself that she had saved her daughter, that she had opened new opportunities, that she had allowed her to spread her wings and soar.

"I love you, Leah," she whispered. "Never forget that."

* * *

She plunged before relapsing and stumbling forward.

Leah tensed, pupils dilating, eyes enlarging, throat constricting. She croaked and rasped and cracked. With perspiration collecting on her forehead, she clamped her jaw tightly and glanced at the figure hugging her.

His normally darkened gaze softened considerably, showing his immense concern for her well-being.

To prevent herself from hyperventilating, she respired profusely.

"It's alright. Just let it out," Drakon persuaded.

And she shrilled. It sounded scratchy, guttural, raw.

She stopped and repeated. Stopped and repeated. Stopped and repeated.

And he listened, comforting her with her presence. And they all listened, consoling her with their essences.

It stayed silent. Until she turned and stared and searched and stopped.

"Where is he?" she inquired.

"We removed him. We didn't think it was right for him to be here," Ly answered honestly.

"How did you guys find me? And I want the truth. I need the truth," she stressed.

"The ritual your mother performed was extremely powerful. It was infused with ancient magic. We don't know much since we can't perform these ourselves, but these incantations hold so much power that, when they're used, they attract other beings. The moment the ritual started—we felt it. That's why Cara and Alcander arrived the instant you landed. They went with the intention of helping you—"

"But I ran away," Leah interjected while sighing.

"Which is why we made that plan. It wasn't the best, but it was the best we could think of on such short notice. We're sorry, Leah," Adara apologized.

"I know we haven't been completely honest with you, but we figured that you would find out eventually or that we could continue to lead you to think that we brought you here. We didn't want you to be angry with your mother. Family is everything. I hope that you can forgive us," Carabelle clarified.

"Anything else I should know?"

"No, that was it. We don't have anymore secrets," Drakon divulged.

"Then, I think we'll be alright. All of us."

* * *

A profusion of fantasy and adventure novels lined the shelves on the bookshelf, holding countless, enticing tales she could faintly recall. Smiling fondly, she skimmed the spines with the tips of her fingers before randomly plucking one and speed reading; she chirped with laughter, clapping her hands together with excitement, tearing with hilarity, and twiddling through the pages with child-like eagerness. When she finished, she returned it before catching a glimpse of the one book which remained out of place—positioned in the front, where it entranced her with its hidden secrets, where it mesmerized her with its promises of returning her memories.

 _A Feverish Dreamer._

Enraptured, she mindlessly grabbed it before flipping through the first few pages and landing on the part she had left off on. She sat down and stared at it.

 **It was time.**

"Everything's starting to change. At first, it was barely noticeable. Adara and Ly ordered more guards to follow us around, while they disappeared off to headquarters. They started going to headquarters everyday, then every few hours, then every single hour. And they would stay there for hours. The other parents stayed for a while, but they returned. They wanted to bring back their kids, but they left them when we started protesting and throwing fits. We didn't want to be separated.

And then, we couldn't really go outside anymore.

'It's raining,' Adara said once. When it wasn't, she said, 'But you'll catch a cold.' When it was scorching hot, Ly said, 'But you'll get dehydrated.'

We could see through their excuses. We could see through them.

It wasn't safe anymore.

Our safe Haven—our Hole—was abandoned. We had to abandon it. It was too close to the outskirts. It wasn't safe anymore.

They never outright said anything. They didn't want to scare us. I don't think we were scared. Not really. I guess we just didn't understand. But we went to the City Square everyday to play and talk to city people.

That's when we noticed it. It was getting worse. People were leaving. Men and women—anyone who could fight and was willing to—were leaving. Some people were moving in, replacing the old ones. I didn't know why at the time, but now I know it's because they're refugees.

I saw some crying, cursing, praying. I saw some limping or hanging onto their families—with no legs. I saw some screaming and pointing and slowly quieting down. I saw some bleeding, faltering, dying.

I saw them dying.

The City Square wasn't cheery anymore. No one really got out of their houses anymore, but those who did had tear tracks on their cheeks and dimmed eyes. I noticed that some people never returned. I saw mass funerals, black clothing, bowed heads and hysterical family members. I saw kids like me suddenly realize that they were parentless.

We asked them what was happening, and they sat down and told us, 'War. We're at war.'

'With who?' Cara asked.

'With a terrible man.'

'A monster?'

'A monster.'

I didn't know what war really meant. I learned about it in history, of course, but experiencing it first-hand is always different. I didn't know how I felt or what I felt. I don't even know now.

We heard that three siblings were coming. Triplets. Their names were Aleta, Aileen and Ales. They're sort of like prophets—at least that's how Adara and Ly explained it. They've been alive for centuries, and they were coming to help. They needed to tell Adara and Ly something, but Acacia wanted them to tell her something, too. Not just anything, but something specific. It was something that she had wanted for a long time. She wanted to know her mate's identity—and so did Micah, Gwen and Sera. I'm sure that if Radley and Damien were there, they would have wanted to know, too. But their parents kept them at home and would only let them come back in a few days. By then, they had disappeared.

I was excited at first, but then I started getting really anxious. Whenever I looked at Acacia, she started jumping with joy. She really wanted this, and I didn't want to ruin it for her. The triplets didn't seem like they wanted to do it, but they had to. I could see it in their eyes: this had to happen. Their parents begged them not to do it. I think the triplets had just come back from telling them the identities of their mates. I looked at Acacia's mom as she pleaded with her, but Acacia ignored it. She wanted to know. They all wanted to know. I think I've learned that everything comes with a price. But the price to pay was too much.

When Micah went, he saw Angela Webber. I've never met her, but she seemed like a nice girl. I was really happy for him until we noticed that Angela would have an unfaithful boyfriend and that Micah would suffer. I froze when I saw Aramis and Alma get tortured. I cried when I saw them get killed and leave behind a child. I wept when I saw Micah's change. Micah shook with fear, and I knew he would never pursue her. Aramis and Alma got squished by their everyone. We would never let that happen. It couldn't happen.

Gwendolyn stepped up, and I breathed with relief when I noticed that her mate was Jacob Black. He was a kind boy—a bit impulsive but still kind and funny. But it shifted and showed us images of him pinning after a pale girl and changing into a wolf. I was shocked, considering that I thought they were legends, but I guess they aren't. I knew Gwendolyn would never think that he could love her. I think she's wrong. But then we saw a terrifying image of her getting tortured. I couldn't stop shaking and crying.

When Sera went up, I prayed for the best, and my wish came true. Her mate was my brother. I couldn't ask for anything better. They'd be perfect together. I saw my brother change into a wolf but keep his personality. I couldn't be happier. And then it all came crashing down when Seth dove into the ocean to find Sera and suddenly died. I was too shocked to react, but Sera kept promising that she wouldn't do anything. She promised, but I know that she can't promise that. The other side eventually killed her, and I couldn't stop the ringing in my ears. No. Not them. No. I love them.

Acacia trembled as she walked up there, but she faced her fate with determination. A Cereberus appeared and trapped her inside. Her parents tried to enter, but it wouldn't let them. I somehow managed to get in and protect her from the truth. Her mate was the son of the leader of the rebellion. He was Alecto's son. Adastros. He would only hurt her—poison her. He would kill us all.

It ended with me forgetting all about them, but I know that I will never forget them. They're my family. I couldn't forget my family. I couldn't forget my soul mate for an ex-best friend who I know will only hurt me. Drakon is my mate, and I won't forget him. He's everything that I could've wanted.

A price was paid for the information. I think we all died inside that day. I think we were just broken shells walking and talking and breathing but not really living. I think we still are.

They left without a trace that day. I heard them say that they couldn't trace them—that they had disappeared and couldn't be found. There's only one place where they couldn't be tracked: my realm.

Everyday, we trained. It came pretty easily, but it unnerved me because I knew why they were doing it. We all knew. They didn't think they could protect us anymore. They thought that it would happen despite any precautions they put in place. I think we can change our destinies. I think we can stop that from happening. I just don't think that—I know that.

I think everything's going downhill. I've been shaking for the past hour. As I'm writing this, Cara's sick."

She inhaled and exhaled and repeated.

"You're reading it."

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I thought you said it was good."

"It is," Drakon responded. "Really good. Because it's the truth. Or at least what you thought was the truth at that age."

"At that age," she repeated, raising her eyebrows.

"The truth hides behind perspectives. You don't really know what the truth is unless you know everyone's perspective, but even then, it's what you think, what you felt. The truth is never really discovered."

"Perceptive," she complimented.

"I try," he answered. "What changed?"

"I think I need to know everything. I think it's time. I've learned some new things about myself. I've matured. Just a bit. But at least it's something. And I know that I'll get to where I want to be if I continue," she confided while wringing her wrists.

"You'll get there. I'm confident you will. You've always had that will to be strong, to be determined, to be stubborn and detailed and steady," he confided.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll go if—"

"No. Stay please," she interrupted. "Just in case, I need clarification or support."

"I'll stay, darling," he uttered. "I'll stay."

And continued while he stayed silent, reassuring, alleviating, consoling.

"She suddenly hunched over and started throwing up her own blood. It cascaded around us. It pooled in the hallway. I couldn't stop staring and pleading. I tried helping and yelling for help. And help came. I've been shaking, wondering what's happening, what will happen, why it happened. Adara's calling. I'll be back.

"It happened because the monster ordered it. When Cara was a baby, she got really sick. They tried everything, but they knew they had to either use the Healing Waters or the Tree of Life. No one really knew where the Healing Waters were exactly, so they used the Tree of Life. It, of course, came with a price. While the Healing Waters would have healed her completely, the Tree of life would only heal her if she bound her life to it. It became her life source. Her hair lightened; her skin lightened; her eyes lightened. But she was healthy, and that was all that mattered. Well, the monster figured it out and ordered them to kill it. They didn't go through with it because they were stopped, but Cara suffered. I don't know what will happen.

"They've decided that healing the tree should work. I'm hoping it does."

Empty. The other pages were empty, completely devoid of words. That was when she left.

"It's short. And it's sad."

"But that's what makes it brilliant. It's completely unfiltered. It's just your emotions and thoughts, but you presented it in a way that shows that you weren't fully comprehending what was happening since you detached yourself from your character, but at the same time you showed that you knew what you were doing," he orated while encompassing her.

"I always wanted to become an author. And I never did become one. I guess reading this just shows me that if I thought it was possible before, then why couldn't it be possible now? But then I remember that I can't leave. I can never leave La Push," she declared. "It's a blessing and a damnation in one."

"But, darling, you can always take classes nearby. Take lessons. Write. And self publish. Or seek publishers. You're brilliant, darling. I know you can do it."

"I always loved writing and reading and drawing illustrations for books. But, I stopped writing and got angry when I realized that I couldn't go to college to major in English and writing. I wanted to publish my works and write freely, but I can't. When I changed, I couldn't write anymore. I was just too angry and I'm still too angry. Anything I write comes out in angry fragments," she confessed. "And taking classes nearby would just detract time that I need to sleep. I'm just too busy. Always too busy for writing. My life has changed. And I need to accept that. I have accepted it."

"Have you?"

"I have," she confirmed; her voice wobbled and wavered but eventually steadied.

"You haven't, darling, but I'm sure that you'll become one. You're strong and persistent and I'm confident you'll become one. I know with all my heart that you will become one," he declared.

And she cracked a smile.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading! I really appreciate it! And thank you so much, brankel1, for reviewing!

Yes, this chapter was kind of a filler chapter. I believe it's the last one with fragmented vignettes from the past.

Next update will be in two days!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: _Predator and Prey_

It was bewildering; it was agitating; it was inundating.

Leah awakened inside the garden, where she was engulfed by the obscurity and encompassed by two warm arms that tenderly plucked her from the ground. Unconsciously, she brought her knees to her quaking chest. Her lips trembled; her pupils dilated; her cheeks whitened.

"It's alright, Leah. You're fine," Drakon reassured. "We've been looking after you. We won't let anything happen to you. I swear. Now go back to sleep."

Yawning, she stilled but ultimately relaxed when he supported her; his arms slowly slithered across her shoulders, tugging her closer and closer until her head rested on the crook of his neck. Humming a charming lullaby, he warded off her phantoms.

She tossed and turned and twisted until she awakened once more. Leah stared directly at the heaving, huffing mess that suddenly hoisted himself upright and surged forward. But he abruptly stopped, plunging and puffing, gagging and suspiring with great force. Breaths billowing, he swelled, chest rising dramatically, distending and expanding grotesquely, exhibiting and exposing his ribcage which protruded from his pallid flesh. Instinctively, she rushed forward, steadying him but ultimately screaming and shouting when he dropped to the floor. He shrieked and sniveled, squirmed and shivered with trepidation. Without hesitating, she lunged, forcing her knees on his legs and taping down his palms with her hands; she shushed him, smothering and stifling down his bellows of fear. Slowly, his shouts faded and ended completely.

Humming, she eased herself off his body before wiping the perspiration covering his forehead, sweeping back his sweat-drenched hair, and rubbing calming, soothing circles on the back of his hands. Leah noticed that heavy shadows lined his eyes, which were closed behind his palpitating eyelids; his skin glistened from the perspiration dripping down his body. Tremors racked his shoulders, racing down his body. His entire body convulsed. His throat clogged with heart-wrenching screams, and his eyes snapped open, revealing eyes that were clouded with darkness, poisoned by bitterness and hatred, dimmed of their livelihood and positivity, and overshadowed by his trepidations.

It was bewildering; it was agitating; it was inundating.

Leah tensed, pupils dilating, eyes enlarging, throat constricting; she croaked before slowly crawling forward, nearing him, and stroking his head. Petrified, he cowered before throwing himself forward and embracing her with feverish desperation and fear; he gulped, murmuring incoherently under his breath. She brushed his throbbing temples with the tips of her fingers and convinced him to release her.

"I'm s-so s-sorry," he stammered, clearly shaken.

"It's okay. You're okay," she persuaded. Her voice softened.

"I I-know I a-am but—"

He stopped, eyes widening and watering and reddening, teeth clattering and clanging and clashing together; his gaze strengthened to the point where he stared directly at her.

It was bewildering; it was agitating; it was inundating.

"You can tell me," she whispered. "I won't think anything less of you for expressing yourself. Everyone has a right to."

"I'm n-not a-afraid of telling you. I know you'll u-understand, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid," he dead-panned. "Just knowing that you're sleepwalking, that Cyrena is sleepwalking, that Calder is sleepwalking, made me realize just how much power the other side has—how much power Adastros and Alecto have. And knowing that at any moment Adastros can harm you—or Cyrena or anyone else—drives me crazy with concern. I always knew that they were powerful—but never to this extent. I j-just don't know a-anymore. I always figured that we would win, and I still think we can, but it's hard. And it's getting harder every day. I'm just afraid that someone will end up dying. That we'll end up failing. That we'll all end up dying. And it's a possibility. It's already been set by fate. The elders already predicted it. But I'm hoping—no, I'm praying that it changes."

"I think it already has. Actually, I'm sure it has," she said with conviction. "Years have passed. And yes, the majority of the events have happened, but I wasn't supposed to come back. I was supposed to stay in La Push, bitter and unhappy for the rest of eternity, but I didn't. I'm here. And I'm helping. I'm sure our futures have changed. I'm sure that we'll win. I know it. And I won't let anything happen to anyone. Don't worry, Drakon."

He grimaced before sighing, steeling and hardening himself.

"It'll be alright," she repeated.

"You're right," he recited. "You're right. I'm just—"

"You're afraid. And that's alright. I'm afraid, too. But I believe in our cause. And I want to keep everyone safe."

He riveted her before nodding and inhaling loudly when she embraced him. Fatigued, his head lulled to the side; his shoulders slumped and faltered and drooped; his eyes closed, shielded by pulsating eyelids. Slowly, she sagged before slumbering.

When she reawakened, she blearily regarded the smiling, simpering man whose waist she had ensnared, whose body she had latched onto, whose eyes softened significantly. She yawned, rubbing her eyes before rising and stretching. Leah glanced at him from her peripheral vision and analyzed his irises, which had deliberately tightened with anticipation.

"Did you sleep alright?" she questioned pensively, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, forehead creased.

"Yeah. Did you?"

"It was fine," she responded. "No sleepwalking or nightmares—although I'll probably end up experiencing all of that tonight."

"You're awfully optimistic," he noted, simpering when she nodded.

"Especially in the mornings," she rehearsed. "I'm just a ray of sunshine. It's one of my better qualities actually."

"Nice to know, especially since you snore when you sleep."

"I don't," she proclaimed, frowning.

"Whatever you say."

"But I don't," she repeated, scowling when he cackled and exited.

"Whatever you say, darling!"

* * *

His previously teasing, mirthful features hardened before becoming impassive and indifferent. His features bordered on cold-hearted and cruel—verging sadistic and sinful and spiteful—as he inspected the newly regenerated figure. Unconsciously, he scrunched his nose and scanned the healthy glow occupying his skin, the lack of shadows lining his under eyes, the active glisten in his irises and the fullness of his frame.

"He's being held captive," Ly confided. "We still don't know if he's being one hundred percent honest with us, so until we know he'll stay here."

"I'm guessing that not everyone agrees."

"No, but it's necessary," Adara orated with confidence.

"He clearly knew how much the information about your parents would affect you; he clearly hasn't gotten over childhood grudges," Micah verbalized. "I don't know if this is the best place to leave him, but it's definitely one of the better options."

"If we imprison him with the other prisoners, he'll somehow manage to dictate and manipulate them to his benefit," Acacia vocalized.

"We have more isolated prisoners, but those are risky; he used to visit his father there before his assassination, so he knows all the passageways and exits that exist," Carabelle intoned.

"And we can't have him without restraints for obvious reasons," Seraphina declared.

"Our best bet is this," Lailah rendered. "Even though, they somehow know his whereabouts."

"If anything else happens—well, we'll figure something out if it happens," Charmeine proclaimed.

"When it happens," Leah corrected.

"When it happens," Drakon repeated stoically.

* * *

Hissing, he soared upwards when familiar footsteps traveled through the corridors. After sensing the vibrations, he stood still, fists clenched, jaw squared, eyebrows raised with anticipation, tongue continuously clicking against the roof of his mouth.

"I wasn't expecting any visitors today, but I'm glad you two decided to drop by. What's the special occasion? Oh but wait, I've forgotten my manners. Would you care for some tea? Some refreshments? Being kept prisoner really makes you forget about your manners, so you'll have to excuse me," he divulged, diverting their attention.

"We don't give a damn, Calder. You're getting what you deserve, you traitorous bastard. Adastros and Alecto don't care for treasons rats."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he rehearsed. "I've never—"

"You disobeyed. You came here. You let them enter. And for that, you must die."

"But I'm sure I won't be the one dying today," Calder replied mindlessly, eyes narrowing and glowering. "In case you forgot, I was the second-in-command."

Completely strengthened, he conjured menacing susurrations and manipulated the shadows in the corners of his confinement; he clouded their spirits, repressed their twisted souls and slowed the pace of their hearts. Cackling, chuckling, crowing, he invigorated the gloom, forcing it to descend and snake around their ankles. It snapped, bit and poisoned them.

The obscurity fused with his valorous, intrepid frame. He chortled with dark humor, overpowered and overflowed by his bitterness.

"You were fools to come here. You were fools to blindly listen to him—to blindly do his bidding; you're a bunch of worthless pawns. They knew you would both die, but they didn't care; they just wanted to test my limits. And, unfortunately for you two, I'm not above exterminating pests."

Swarmed with darkness, he shot forward. Without hesitating, he crescent kicked his opponent before backtracking and somersaulting; he groin kicked his opponent and fisted his hair before dragging him across the floor. His scalp scraped against the ground, exposing his delicate flesh. He bled, cursing, flailing, floundering, and faltering when Calder strangled him. Sniggering, he walloped his enemy before spinning his deranged corpse around and throwing him against his comrade; he side-kicked his throat, lunged forward and clamped his hands over their pressure points. Sneering, he strapped their limp bodies to the ground

and thinned their flesh. He overpowered their minds, killing them.

He snapped their necks, grinning with grime satisfaction when their heads slid to the side.

"You're late," Calder mentioned once the obscurity evaporated.

"We've been watching," Leah stated while crossing her arms.

"I suspected that much."

"Come on. We have to go."

"Where?"

The silence peaked his interest.

"Come on, little Leah—"

Shooting forward, she clouted the side of his face before snatching his collar and raising him upwards; she sneered and snarled, pupils dilating with animalistic pride when his feet dangled and his eyes momentarily flashed. After pausing, she banged his head against the wall and chortled with dark satisfaction when his eyes twitched.

"Listen to me," she whispered vehemently. "And listen carefully because I will only repeat this once: taunt me one more time, and I will not hesitate to torture you. I won't kill you—no, I won't—because that would be too kind. I'll just derive pleasure from hearing you scream your heart out."

"You don't scare me," he declared, scoffing.

"I don't?" she asked rhetorically. "Maybe I don't—but you're afraid of a certain someone. I'm sure you know Nico and Artemisia—and I'm sure you know what they can do to you. They're just waiting for a reason to strike. Everyone is. So you better be on your best behavior, little Calder."

"You need me. And you won't do anything to me. Now let me go, little Leah," he mocked confidently; his voice became steady and deep, low and dangerous.

"You don't scare me," she recited. "I'm not a little girl anymore. You don't scare me. In fact, I almost pity you. You're pathetic, cowardly, worthless. It's a wonder—"

Growling, he secured his hands around her throat and squeezed with feverish desperation; she heaved but hauled herself upright and lacerated his arms—starting from his elbows and ending at his knuckles. Blustering, she lurched forward and twisted back his hands; she clawed through his flesh, screeching with rage and unleashing years of wrath. Not being able to resist, she dislocated his shoulders and kicked his head when a familiar darkness approached; she kicked and punched him until his head lulled to the side.

Hypnotized by the damage, she huddled close to him, memorizing the way in which his chest shuddered and descended but gradually ascended—only to tremble and repeat; he convulsed but reposed and regenerated. Inhaling, she bowed over his surging and suspiring form, reminiscing and recoiling before hardening and glowering at his ghastly, perspiring visage.

He had become her prey. And she had become his predator.

"Leah, what happened?" Artemisia questioned.

"I lost control," she muttered. "I can't believe I lost control."

"It happens to everyone."

"I guess. But we can't afford to lose control. I can't afford to lose control. We need him—even though it hurts to say that."

"It's okay, Leah. No one is perfect. Absolutely no one."

Consenting, she carried his seemingly lifeless form through the halls. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, while his limp hands hung from his sides and occasionally brushed her knees. He suddenly gasped, panted and swallowed. Leah noticed the slight slope of his forehead, the shallow creasing around his eyes, the wrinkles occupying the sides of his mouth, the puckered flesh normally concealed by his hair, the faint, white lines decorating the center of his head before moving downward and following the curvature of his spine. Frigidly, she stalked forward, accompanied by Artemis who sighed and stared at the unconscious figure.

"We were friends," Artemis mentioned casually, almost mindlessly and emotionlessly. "All of us. We were the best of friends. You left. And we hated him; we thought he was evil. But when you grow up, you realize that the boundary between bad and good is blurred. It's hard to tell sometimes. I guess at that age, we were childish, and we realized it after a while. We knew why he was here. He knew why he was here. Everyone knew. But we weren't ready. He wasn't ready. No one was. Well, we were forced to be together as a way of socializing with him—but we never said anything to him. Until he and Drakon wandered off from the group. No one had noticed.

"And suddenly, we heard screams of pure terror. We ran and found Calder inflicting his abilities onto a group of cowering men, while Drakon bled and maintained his composure. Apparently, those men had figured out Calder's whereabouts, had wanted to kill him for betraying his father, had wanted to kidnap Drakon and torture him. But it didn't happen. Calder had helped. That day we realized that he had changed. At least a bit. We still hadn't forgotten what he did to you, but we were seeing a different side to him. Everything changed.

"He was considerably nicer, calmer, much more caring. When Gwendolyn was kidnapped, he gave out information on the possible locations she could be kept at. And it worked. We found her. We all become friends, especially after he apologized for what he had done to you. He seemed sincere. But I guess it was a façade. His father died; he was assassinated when he became a teenager. It happened on his birthday. He thought we did it. He thought we did it," she repeated thoughtfully, stoically, completely detached.

"He left but not without warning us; he left when the guards were down. It hurt. But we accepted it. That's when the bitterness fermented, especially after Alma and Aramis died. Tragedy struck. And it kept striking. And striking. When they murdered Leila, we were fractured. Did you know that she was basically Drakon and Carabelle's older sister?" she questioned. Leah shook her head.

"She was like their older sister. When she fled from her homeland, she landed here and immediately formed bonds with all of us, especially Drakon and Carabelle, who became her siblings, and Ly and Adara, who became her parents. It hurt them. Damaged them. Killed them. It killed us, too. It killed everyone. I guess just looking at him now, just seeing how much time has passed by, how much we've all passed through—well, it made me think about how we used to be friends, how we could have changed our futures, how Calder would have eventually met Leila, how they could have been together without any hindrances, how she could have lived to this day and made us forget everything bad that ever happened because she was just that type of person and—"

Artemis whimpered and wilted, decaying and decomposing.

"Artemis—"

"You've never called me Artemis before. At least, not since you left. I've missed you, Leah. I know I havennt really said anything, but I've really missed you. And even though you probably don't want to be here, I'm glad you are. I really am," she divulged while sniffling and smiling.

"I'm glad I could be here, too," Leah murmured. "I mean, I'm not happy that I have to lug Calder around, but the other circumstances are pretty okay."

Artemis cracked a smile.

* * *

Acacia zoomed through the woods, weaving throughout the trees and dispelling her luminosity throughout the soul of the woodlands; she dispersed her abilities to the core of the Tree of Life, stretching it to the very roots, which expanded through the land and resonated with power. She converged with Acastus, who strengthened the intensity of the obscurity until their surroundings palpitated and echoed with power. Acastus thickened the haze, manipulating and bending it, forcing and coaxing it to conjoin with the splendor. The two contrasting forces integrated, causing a sudden surge of power—of palpable security and adrenaline.

Suddenly lethargic, she deflated, knees buckling and collapsing underneath her, shoulders sinking and slumping completely, spine hunching and arching forward, eyes reddening and closing. Unwillingly, Acastus crumpled, succumbing into the dark abyss of his memories, of his past, of his own nightmares and dreams; he shattered—debilitated to the point where his face drained of color, where his body stilled and his breaths barely sounded.

Leah bounded forward, accompanied by Delia, who instantly inserted her own essence into their forms. Immediately, Acastus' heedful expression evaporated; his cheeks colored, and his muscles relaxed. Acacia sighed drowsily. She slept placidly—worries momentarily forgotten, burdens momentarily lifted, genuine happiness momentarily regained.

It tasted bittersweet.

Carefully, Adara carried Acacia who mumbled and tossed but continued to sleep peacefully. Grimacing, Ly seized Acastus who respired profoundly, lips curling up and hands twitching. Artemis held his hand.

"It was the only way of strengthening our wards," Drakon murmured, exhausted. "And I'm tired of using that pathetic excuse over-and-over again."

"They knew what they were getting into," Aristo mentioned, "even though that doesn't hurt any less."

"But at least they'll be back to normal tomorrow. Maybe a bit tired but normal enough," Admes interjected.

"Normal?" Nico questioned before scoffing. "None of us are normal. We're healthy physically but not mentally. We're all screwed up."

"But at least we're together," Carabelle divulged.

"At least we're together," Leah affirmed.

"You're right. At least we're together," Alcander agreed.

At least for now.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading! I really appreciate it!

A battle will be featured next chapter!

Next update will be in two days!


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: _Populus Fusca_

Leah shot forward when muffled moans—accompanied by shrill shrieks and menacing hisses—resounded throughout the battlefield.

A a swarm of malignant monsters proceeded forward, eyes glistening with feverish desperation and blood-lust. Very narrowly, she eluded a pair of jittery fingers which rapidly zipped toward her neck. Leah dodged, ducked, then kicked her assailant. Following her instincts, she zoomed forward, freighted, and knocked her off balance; she tripped but dove forward and threw her entire weight on her shoulders. Her attacker sneered when she extended her fingers, nails posed, legs flailing and floundering beneath her tensed form. Twittering with laughter, she strangled her—but not before clawing through the side of her face and puncturing her sides with her nails. Leah stilled her body before forcefully launching her knees forward and hurling her opponent back. With one clear movement, she broke her windpipe.

When clamorous, clapping thunders echoed throughout the vicinity, she ripped apart their crates containing food and medicine, as well as other necessities; she barraged through their human layers, breaking apart their tides by quickly banging their bodies against one another. For a very brief moment, she paused, listening to the horrendous sounds of high-pitched screams, of such heart-wrenching shrieks, of ear-splitting roars and outcries, of droning laughter and blasts. In that moment of vulnerability, two beasts sailed toward her, soaring upward and then descending with incredible agility. She pivoted one second too late. A vivacious woman walloped her before hauling her by her shoulders to the opposite end; she struggled momentarily before becoming limp and jeering when her head collided with the tree trunks. On the fourth attempt, she kicked her gut, punched her face, crescent kicked her upcoming attacker, tacked her to the tree she had faced, and banged her against it until her body became rigid. Her body slid down. Death claimed her.

Detonating, her comrade walked forwards but quickly calculated her movements and shuffled backward; he pranced forward, quickly sidestepping her side kick and retreating two paces before sliding forward on his knees and tackling her legs. Stunned, she fell but ascended and shielded her face with her hands; she circled him, watching as he mirrored her own actions and stepped forwards. He backtracked two paces and catapulted himself upwards. He landed on top of her, whipping her back-and-forth until her head bobbled and her cheeks stained with rouge. Finally, he stopped when she elbowed his face, breaking his nose and dislocating his jaw in the process. Leah lunged, shattering his collarbones and serrating his flesh. Reveling in his misery, she trampled on his temples but stopped when she heard sharp intakes and loud gulping. Death claimed him.

Heavy-hearted, she swiveled but tottered when two pairs of hands grappled her from her waist and her legs; the two men lugged her to the side, but she side-kicked one of their throats and somersaulted. Without hesitating, she bashed their heads and yanked on the roots of their hair until a consistent cascade of blood leaked from their open wounds. Satisfied, she spun and spluttered, eyes widening, mouth gaping, throat clogging with disbelief and revulsion.

Whistles and catcalls resonated. But the sonorous sound of an incensed alpha roar, followed by the rhythmic pounding of paws and responding hisses, permeated the atmosphere. Spine erect, she inhaled sharply when the strange creatures with an illumined gaze, perked ears, fangs, and a limber frame covered with white fur and dark spots, walked forwards. Leah inhaled harshly, perturbed by their presences. Muscles contracting, she stilled and stared with unmasked suspicion when their snouts wiggled back-and-forth, when their eyes flashed, with their irises dilated with animalistic hunger. She gulped but puffed out her chest and evaded the perilous blows flying in her direction.

After scanning the darkened expanse, she whizzed forward and followed Cara; she bounded forward, strengthening the intensity of her luminosity. Her chest heaved, expelling the splendor she had managed to summon. Instantly, the flock of rebels quickly covered their eyes—but others failed and floundered. They bellowed with grief and vexation, pawing and clawing through their eyes until blood poured from the corners. Their backs arched; their mouths extended; their eyes spilled more blood. Not being able to withstand it, they lacerated their eyes, ripping them from their sockets.

Darkness approached, settling over their slumped bodies and extinguishing their souls. Alcander controlled the obscurity, while Gwendolyn emerged from the haze, throwing shadows—which transfigured and shifted, turning into lively figures, who fought viciously before launching themselves into their adversaries' chests—throughout the field.

The Saeva Canum thundered.

Distracted, she barely barreled backwards when a horde of varmints with blazing irises nearly trampled her. Speedily, she seized the first individual, latched herself onto his back, positioned her legs across his ribs, and viciously pulled on the side of neck; he scratched her, growling and howling before eventually becoming limp. Death claimed him.

Without pausing, she tried to tackle her, but she rapidly caught her body and twisted it until she seized her by her ribcage; she imprinted her with her hand prints and nearly fractured her ribs. Quickly, she kicked her stomach, threw her back two paces, and elbowed her face. The two fell to the ground, heads on opposite ends. Taking advantage, Leah head-locked her with her legs, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until she gasped and eventually stopped breathing. Death claimed her.

Gnarling, the group attacked her as one. They battered her with their expectant hands, while she squirmed from their grasps. She hastily punched them until they retreated. Desperately, she detached herself from their ranks. When three managed to seize her—one from behind, one from the front, and one from the side—she tensed.

When their coarsened fingers ran along her sides, she hastily, and very deliberately, snapped his wrists, kicked her legs upward, and backtracked. She defeated her opponent from the back before crescent kicking her side adversary. Leah pounced on the nearest one, clouting the side of his head until his eyes rolled back; she tackled the next one before throwing him in his comrade's direction and simultaneously eliminating both of them with her greedy fingers.

The Saeva Canum rumbled.

Alarmed, she nearly fainted and vomited when the remaining soldiers unveiled their meal: a horde of weakened prisoners with exposed ribcages, with protruding bones, knobby kneecaps, legs that resembled twigs, sunken stomachs, pointy elbows, dislocated limbs, jutted collarbones, overwhelmingly dark shadows, ghastly visages which perspired greatly, and hacking coughs.

The Saeva Canum sprinted, yipping and yowling, salivating and practically savoring the fearful fragrance emanating from their prey.

Appalled, she shot forward and penetrated the remaining flock of revengeful soldiers; she permeated the multitude of dauntless, shrilling creatures without any heed. Artemisia and Acacia followed her lead, heading straight for the Saeva Canum. With unwavering devotion, Artemisia strangled those who neared her companions, executing them with relative ease and fearlessness; she briefly indulged herself by staring at their dimming irises, their whitening eyes, their rolling corpses, which stumbled upon their own companions and incapacitated them. Determined, Acacia burst through the layers, positioning herself directly in front of the quaking critters, who circulated her, gnarring, growling, and gritting their fangs.

Sensing her hesitation, Leah directed herself around Artemisia, who abruptly stopped; she closed her eyes until her blazing irises exploded with raw emotion. After intensifying her gaze, she bore her stare into the upcoming animals who suddenly buckled. Unwillingly, the surrounding animals rose, glancing at each other with bewilderment before murdering each other.

Leah looked away, catching brief glimpses of Aristo exploiting the bodies of those around them; the rebels toppled over, pleading for mercy, supplicating with the Heavens, reverently begging for eternal forgiveness. But Death claimed them.

Acastus, accompanied by Admes, slew the weakened forces from behind. They killed them with calculated swiftness; they threw around dead corpses and stepped away from the waterfall of blood.

She looked away, briefly focusing on Adara and Ly—both of whom fought diligently with their backs pressed to each. They yelled and ordered their troops, which fought with unwavering determination. Leah glanced at Nicodemus and Delia—one of which sustained and aided battles, and the other who healed fallen soldiers and prevented their numbers from dwindling. From her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of the four sisters—all of whom infiltrated the prison and fought against the rebels who dared to trespass onto their territory. Then, she stared at Drakon and Micah—both of whom prevented any of their adversaries from escaping by guarding the outskirts and combatting the foolish.

It eventually stopped. The Saeva Canum died. The rebels died. Everyone died mentally.

But they liberated the war prisoners. And they wept and wept, gratefully thanking them, loudly thanking the Heavens for the opportunity to see their family members again—to reunite and love each other again and never let go.

But the war had only just begun.

* * *

Desperation and despair swarmed her.

Hysterically, feverish families—who had initially gaped and gasped, wheezed and whined, and, finally understanding that their phantoms had not plagued their minds, that their lost family members had somehow been revived and retrieved—squealed, squalled and sprinted. Fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, daughters and sons, reunited, wailing and keening, racking with tremulous shudders and clutching tightly onto their loved ones.

Throat clogged, she whipped her head back and wiped away her tears. Before she could escape, three comforting presences attached themselves to her, soothing her.

"It's sad. War is sad. But it brings us together. And now, we're stronger than ever," Artemis noted sagaciously.

And Leah believed her.

* * *

It was twilight.

Feeling restless, she exited her bedroom and proceeded down the familiar passageway to the gardens.

Leah sat beside Acacia, who stared ahead, crossed her hands over her bent knees and positioned her chin over her intertwined arms; she stared and stared and stared until she finally faltered, blinked and glanced at her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"You first."

"I didn't think it would be this violent. I never expected it to be. I know it's war, but I've faced battles before, and they've never escalated this quickly. I guess—well, I just don't know. I'm just so overwhelmed—so, so confused. I j-just—I want everyone to be safe. I don't want anyone to die. But that's impossible. Everyone's been through something."

"It's horrible," Acacia agreed.

"Especially because everyone was celebrating and reuniting and singing and crying and hugging and promising and—I just couldn't take it. Because the real war just started. And there's going to be more casualties and war prisoners and tortures for some stupid cause."

"It makes you wonder just how horrible a person must be to incite it, to continue it, to live it and believe it."

She affirmed, growing increasingly perturbed when Acacia trembled, eyes blazing, pupils dilating, eyes widening.

"It makes me wonder how I can be tied to such a repugnant, monstrous creature with no morals. He lusts for blood. It makes me wonder how he can be my mate. You know what they say, Leah: your mate compliments you to please you. It makes me wonder what kind of person I am. Who am I? I must be a ruthless murderess—oh wait, I am," she responded while cackling maniacally. "It's really starting to concern me actually. I kill without any thought. It's natural, instinctive, desirable. I—"

Leah hugged her, while she snuggled with her. Acacia held onto her tightly, nuzzling her nose in the crook of her neck and weeping openly.

"You're not like him. Not at all. You're—"

"No one wanted to tell me. No one! But I know. I know that he's Adastros. I know everything! And it had to take someone like Plutus to finally confess it. I'm just like him. I'm just like—"

"No you're not!" Leah interjected. "No you're not. You're Acacia—kind and compassionate but fierce and strong, beautiful and lovely but incredibly intelligent and skillful. You're not like him. You kill—because it's necessary. It's necessary for the protection of others. You're a warrior, a protector, a savior. You're Acacia."

It was silent with the exception of the sound of constant gulping, swallowing, sniffling and hiccuping. Finally, she ceased, grimacing but conveying her immense gratitude.

Acacia believed her. And Leah believed in her.

* * *

It was frightening; it was disheartening; it was overwhelming.

The obscurity converged with her tremulous frame, contaminating her lightened soul, corrupting and murdering her; she convulsed erratically, knees nearly buckling, hands shaking violently at her sides, jaw jutting and squaring instinctively, pupils dilating with animalistic desire. Insufflating, she prowled the surrounding woods and pinpointed the faint dimensions popping from the tree-line; she stalked forward—her feet light but her soul heavy, her instincts calm but her sentiments raging, her mind clear but her heart dark.

The imprint of footsteps—large and heavy, bolstering and quick—bore the mark upon the land, causing her to whistle and shrill, attracting attention from her comrades who numbly marched forwards. Their postures were strict and perfect; their fists were clenched, and their spines were erect. Their legs were straight but ready—ready to spring, leap and kill. Always ready. Ready for justice. Ready for the kill.

Following the scent of perspiration, she abruptly stopped and pivoted. She caught sight of a cascade of blood that started from the outskirts of the forest and streamed down towards her.

Alcander, accompanied by his expressionless parents and his younger sister, emanated an essence of power, strength, and calm vengeance. The family ushered them forward, expertly zigzagging through the fallen timbers, wordlessly snaking through the rumbles, silently manipulating the umbra until their limbs became shadowy tendrils. They stopped.

But their façades dissolved.

Instantly, Alcander deflated and knelt over with his arched back racking with barely repressed shrieks and weeps; he murmured hysterically, frantically, desperately under his breath, attracting immediate attention from his mate who sped forward and hugged him. Blinded by anger, he rose but wobbled and floundered until Carabelle steadied his jittery frame. Crying silently, he leaned against her, listening to the reassuring whispers coming from her mouth, focusing on the warmth dispersing across her fingertips, concentrating deeply on the soothing, feathery fingers circling his back, on the soft, soft sighs and smiles directed toward him.

Simultaneously, Gwendolyn shivered and shuddered. Her tremors slithered down her spine, inundating her to the point where she crumpled. Her knees buckled, frame collapsing, heart throbbing, eyes widening and dilating, mouth gaping, nose scrunching, throat clogging. Drakon supported her, consoling her as she bawled and lamented their losses greatly; she scanned over their lot before closing her eyes. Quivering, she delved further into his chest before sniffling and gagging and wishing vainly that she was just having a nightmare.

But she wasn't. And she knew it.

United physically and emotionally, Anastasia and Calvin broke their composures; their mournful, heart-broken emotions rippled throughout their features, twisting and turning their mouths, contorting and deforming their nostrils, saddening and darkening their irises. Wilting, Anastasia stepped forward with her husband, who bit harshly on his lips and glanced down—at the steady and continuous flow of blood which cascaded downward, at the puddles of blood scattered across the field, at the drips of blood that rained down from the heavens, at the speckles of blood that sprayed their faces.

Spiraling out of control, Leah vomited.

It was frightening; it was disheartening; it was overwhelming.

The stench of death—of fear-induced retching and heaving, of perspiration and urine, of metallic blood—permeated the thickening atmosphere. It painfully reminded them of their failures. Decaying corpses with whitened irises, rolled eyeballs, missing, gasping sockets, and shadowy under eyes, preoccupied the ground, stocked on top of each other; defeated carcasses with ghastly flesh—savagely torn and ripped, lacerated and serrated, scarred and disfigured—hung from the branches, dangling above their heads and splattering them with their saliva and blood; defaced cadavers with hacked off limbs, with stubs that bled, with semi-ripped fingers or toes or legs or ankles, with fractured ribs and collarbones and shoulders, with snapped, hanging necks, laid beneath their feet.

Inspiring profusely, the two rulers steadied their quaking limbs and ordered their troops forwards. With great sorrow, they retrieved the bodies of innocent but dauntless civilians and hardworking and heedless soldiers. The two swooped down and respectfully carried their bodies.

Following their lead, they each seized the fallen while bowing their heads and deriving strength from their deceased comrades.

"We will have a ceremony," Anastasia proclaimed.

"A ceremony to consecrate our ferocious and loyal soldiers. A ceremony to honor their sacrifices and hard work," Calvin declared.

Nodding, the preparations were quickly made; the entire population of the Populus Fusca, accompanied by other civilians from other lands, gathered at the very center of the kingdom—at the very heart and spirit.

Their bodies had been stowed in closed caskets, which had been propped onto several different wooden rafts, decorated humbly but tastefully, adorned with a profusion of sweet smelling flowers, splattered with mournful, grievous tears and perfumed with the last utterances shared between loved ones.

A soft murmur passed around them before becoming louder but lovelier; their tenors trembled and shook, fluttering and flailing but continuing and strengthening with every syllable. Their melody rose, overtaking the entire land, flexing and changing with the multitude of emotions that coursed through them.

Finally, the assembly stopped at the opening of the ocean, watching as the two rulers faced their people.

"We are tremendously, irrevocably, sorry. Many great lives were lost today—mothers and fathers, daughters and sons, sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles, godmothers and godfathers, grandmothers and grandfathers, our dearly loved ones who had so many years ahead of them, who had not yet fully lived their lives to their greatest extent. And for that we are sorry. We had not anticipated the magnitude of this attack. But we promise that we will not let their deaths pass by in vain. Yes, they died. And we have been fractured by their losses, but we are not broken. We have been fractured, beaten, ruined, tortured, damaged, but we are not broken. And we will not give them the satisfaction of breaking us! No, we will not! Too many lives have been lost. Too many lives!" Anastasia exclaimed, rallying them.

"So today—yes, today—is a day where we have been tortured emotionally and physically but not crushed. Today is a day of grieving and sadness and despair and misery—but also of hope and strength. We will not succumb to the darkness surrounding us; we will not succumb to the evil lurking around us. Today is a day of grieving and respecting and remembering our loved ones. We will not remember them in their moments of pain but instead in their moments of glory and eternal happiness, of when we all joked around and played until the night finally fell, of when we all played pranks and ran around and pretended we were cool—when in reality we looked foolish but happy. Oh so eternally happy. Moments that we kissed and blushed and smiled and laughed and grinned and were happy. Oh so eternally happy. We will not succumb to them! We will always remember our loved ones; they have not died in vain. They have not!" Calvin inspired. "Today we bury them. But they will always remain in our hearts. Always. They had died physically but never in spirit. Never."

The rafts floated toward the horizon. Those who had volunteered, including Alcander, Gwendolyn and Artemisia, raised their bows and arrows before shooting their flames onto the rafts. The fire dispersed, overtaking every casket.

Their song commenced and persisted, shifting from one of mourning to one of contented remembrance. A placid breeze whooshed around them, touching their shoulders, skimming their cheeks, tousling their locks and whispering lovely reassurances in their ears.

Their spirits lived on.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading! I really appreciate it! Thank you, brankel1, for reviewing!

Next update will be in two days!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: _Dace, Callan, and Matthew_

Darkness approached. The obscurity deepened, thickening and strengthening, morphing and shifting, sliding and snaking forward and forward until their still bodies became enveloped by the inevitable.

Wordlessly, she crouched and converged with the condensed haze; she riveted the set of hands tightly squeezing her bow and arrows. Leah prayed that their tactic would work.

Blurry outlines zoomed forwards. Shrill hoots sounded, echoing through her ears and coursing through her adrenaline-pumped body. Very deliberately, she whistled lowly and purposefully plunged, landing on her victim. He grunted and groaned before punching the side of her face. Leah snarled and pawed the roots of his hair before repeatedly banging his head against the ground. Gnarling, he kicked her stomach, but she pressed his pressure points and strangled him; his head lulled to the side, while his eyelids fluttered but finally failed and fell.

Triumphantly, she carried his body throughout the forest before entering the passageway; she handed him to Drakon, who nodded with approval and ushered her to their underground headquarters. The rest of the unconscious bodies traveled down the corridors.

They imprisoned them and placed them into separate confinements.

"Who are they?" Leah questioned once they retained the trio.

"Important, higher up officials," Alcander disclosed.

"Trusted?"

"Trusted."

She swiveled, facing the approaching figure with poorly concealed distaste—with distrusting, probing eyes which bore into his own and threatened him. Smirking, he neared her and winked, but he stopped when he caught a glimpse of the prisoners. Suddenly, his face whitened, but it soon darkened and reddened; his eyes dilated, and his heart pulsated erratically, painfully, fervently. His fists clenched, veins popping.

"What are their names?"

"Dace, Callan, and Matthew," Nico responded.

"Two of them lied," he murmured; his eyes blazed with barely repressed fury.

"Then who—"

"Callan and Dace lied," he whispered; his tenor wavered and fluctuated, oscillating between pure, unadulterated rage and resentment. "They're Maximus and Nathan—disguised by Adastros's splendid mental powers."

Everyone froze. But Drakon immediately sprouted upward, roughly seizing Calder from his collar and backing him up against the corner. Eyes narrowing and glinting furiously, he pressed him against the wall and banged his head. Tremors rolled down his coiled muscles, which expanded momentarily before tensing and compacting to the point where he convulsed. Perspiration dripped from the sides of his forehead. He gritted his teeth, glaring and challenging him.

"It's true. And you know it. But don't worry, I'll do my job correctly. I know why I was freed and trust me, even if I wasn't under contract, I would still rip them to shreds," Calder vowed. His voice hardened and dripped with malicious desire.

After pausing, he released him and scanned over his lusting irises; he noticed his squared shoulders, jutted jaw, gritted teeth, protruding veins, overshadowed gaze, which darkened significantly—tormented

by the pressing memory of his deceased soul mate.

Purposefully, he entered Maximus' confinement and cackled when his previously relaxed features became darker but warier; his facial disguise receded, exhibiting his prominent cheekbones and jaw shape, his broad eyebrows and his long nose, his faint stubble and cropped tendrils. Along with his visage, his body shortened and became stronger and heftier, environed by burly muscles and swarthy skin.

"Long time no see," Calder stated.

"I don't associate with traitors," Maximus spat.

"No?" Calder questioned placidly, eyebrows raised.

"No," he confirmed stonily.

"No?" Calder repeated.

"No."

In an instant, Calder whizzed forward, seized his throat, tackled him down, and pinned his body against the ground.

"No?"

"N-no," he stammered before wheezing.

"From my point of view, you have been. All this time, you have been," he verbalized mindlessly. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm not particularly attached to this group. Not really. But you've been betraying their trust, haven't you, dearest Maximus? And you do associate with your other companions—once my subordinates, you remember. What else?"

Maximus struggled, withering and turning violently in his tightening hold.

"Oh, it nearly escaped me," he taunted darkly. "You've betrayed me, Maximus. Time-and-time again. I—"

"She was—"

"Don't interrupt me!" Calder exclaimed before thrashing his head and throttling his neck.

"A conniving temptress, a cunning prostitute—"

"I said don't interrupt me," Calder vocalized calmly before brutally walloping him.

"You k-know it's t-true. She w-would h-have killed y-you first c-chance she g-got," he proclaimed nervously.

"Don't speak about her in that way," he deadpanned. "You don't have the right to speak about her. She was too good for you. For all of us."

"Including you," Maximus barked before chortling. "I'm done trying to smack some sense into you. You're pathetic, Calder. You used to be great before that tramp came along. It's a good thing I had the pleasure of hearing her scream, of hearing her beg for her life, of having the pleasure of killing her. And I'll do the same with you."

Silence plagued them before Calder grinned manically and laughed, momentarily releasing him.

"Oh, Max, dearest Max, I've waited so long to be reunited with you. After that incident, I couldn't speak to you. I couldn't find you," Calder revealed before stalking forward and cornering him.

Without glancing backward, he leaned in and lowered his voice to the point where he barely heard it.

"I couldn't wait to thank you," he confessed. "This is all just a ploy created by Adastros and Alecto. I play the tragic and pathetic victim, traumatized by the death of his mate. Just play along. I need to earn their trust. Now, look frightened or angry, but play along for the sake of this plan. You wouldn't want Adastros to find out."

"You're lying—"

Calder shushed him, fear sparking in his eyes.

"Don't say anything," Calder whispered lowly, features confronted with heed. "Just be ready. I'll bring along Nathan, and I'll reunite you two. Pay close attention because it'll happen in an instant. Everything needs to be calculated carefully. I won't lose my head for your mistakes."

Maximus scoffed but asked, "What about Matthew?"

"I trust that you can get him out yourselves," Calder proclaimed, "if he's even worth it. He's always been too cowardly for my liking—way too easily influenced. But it's your choice. I'm already risking my hide for you two—I can't afford anyone else."

"You're lying. I can tell. This room has cameras and microphones. There's no—"

"Stay quiet and listen," Calder interjected.

It was deadly silent.

"Now look around."

The cameras had been blinded.

"Don't believe me. But when the time comes, when Nathan enters, you two have to escape quickly and silently. No diversions. No unnecessary killings," Calder disclosed before exiting.

* * *

Perturbed, Maximus circled his confinement and turned, catching a brief glimpse of his bewildered comrade slowly walking forwards; he instantly clamped his hands around his shoulders and nodded, showing that he understood. He consented when Calder tipped his head towards the empty corridor. Calder vanished, leaving them to their own devices.

Hesitating, Maximus towed along his agitated companion, who wobbled forward but quickly gained confidence; the two trekked together, sticking to the light and evading the growing obscurity. Driven, the two men trudged down the halls before descending the staircase and abruptly stopping. Conversations brewed below. Silently, the duo ascended, turned right, entered a different corridor and nearly cussed when the haze brushed their ankles; their flesh sizzled, but the two plodded on. They nearly screeched when the obscurity converged with them.

Seething, Maximus hopped back and barreled into Nathan, who barely suppressed his own shrieks. The impending darkness encompassed them. It snaked around their ankles and bit their skin before slithering up and assailing their knees, which trembled and nearly buckled from the pressure. A searing heat advanced, accelerating up their thighs, up their belly buttons, and up their chest. It licked their wrists and bent their palms back; it impelled them back, causing them to topple over. The two backtracked into an open door, which they entered and closed behind them.

While panting, the duo scanned their environment, which consisted of a wide room that had one narrow door on the opposite end. Gulping, Nathan tiptoed towards the exit, while Maximus followed him. Behind them, the obscurity crept from underneath the opening of the entrance. Fearfully, the two quickly bounded towards the door. They hesitated but opened it. The haze followed them closely, causing them to shut the door and tentatively step into the long corridor standing in front of them. They entered before strolling down the passageway and ending at the start of the new pathway. The obscurity bellowed behind them, making them whiz through the exit and choke with frustration when the fog converged with their lower halves. Three doors materialized.

Running out of chances, Maximus ran and detonated when his body converged with the raging obscurity; he seized Nathan, who had become paralyzed, and lurched through the nearest exit. The two tripped and plunged through a hole. They huddled and shrieked when the darkness enveloped them. Wheezing, Nathan stared at the closing hole. Terrified, he rose but yelled when the darkness flung him against the wall and pushed him down. Maximus snarled, struggling and squirming, tossing and turning, but he eventually surrendered.

Out of pure luck, Nathan bustled forward and escaped the impending darkness; he shot forward, slipping and sliding but somehow managing to seize Maximus. Puffing, the duo scampered toward the exit and rolled into another room with another passage; they pursued it before exiting and shutting the door behind them.

Frantically, they backtracked and nearly shouted when two figures zoomed forward. The two criminals gaped openly, betrayal swarming inside their reddening gazes. Drakon growled and crescent kicked Nathan, who dodged his attack and stomped his feet; he quickly kicked his groin and tackled him to the ground. Without hesitating, Drakon snapped his ankles and reveled in his shocked whimpers. Nathan spat.

Drakon punched him, hitting his eyes, which became mere slits when he regarded him with blood lust. He fractured his wrists before brutally battering his sweat-drenched face and rising. When he surged toward, he applied immense pressure on his sockets before pulling it forward, nearly bringing his eye forward. Gnarling, Nathan attempted to maim him, but Drakon knocked him unconscious.

Without pausing, Calder kicked Maximus until he slumped over, shoulders sunken and ribs shattered.

"Strap them in," Drakon commanded.

Calder obeyed.

"I told you it would work," Calder stated with disgust. "They only wanted to save their hides, even though no reasonable person would've believed it."

When the captives awakened, they whitened. Their wardens unveiled their weapons. Without hesitating, Drakon retrieved stronger restraints and his preferred tool: a twisted, poisoned knife, whose familiar jagged edges incited true fear.

"It's time," Drakon stated; his voice hard and steely.

Deliberately, Drakon unevenly cleaved through his flesh, slicing through his layers and sundering his insides. With steady fingers, he retreated but diced the surface of his stomach; he punctured his protruding bones and dove back inside. He tossed and vomited when Drakon severed his chest and injected the poison throughout his bloodstream. Drakon watched when the surrounding flesh blackened and tinged with blood. Shrieking, he wept.

"Stop! Please stop! I'm sorry for what I did! I shouldn't have done it! I'm sorry! I was under orders. Have mercy!" Nathan pleaded.

"Stop, Nathan! Don't say anything! He's not capable of doing anything; he's weak, pathetic, cowardly!" Maximus exclaimed.

"Do you believe him?" Drakon whispered. "Do you believe him?"

His lips wobbled but tightened. With grime satisfaction, he flipped him over and tightened his bondages over his wrists and his throat. After tearing his shirt, he savagely disfigured his back, marring and mangling his flesh, dismembering pieces and hurtling them onto the floor, slashing and splintering open his layers. Detonating, he threw his body against the table but yelped when his body started bleeding heavily.

"This can all end soon. Unlike you, I don't enjoy torture. Just tell me what we need, and I'll stop. I promise," Drakon vowed, sounding persuasive and reassuring.

"Never," he spat fearfully.

Extending his blade, he carved his back and skimmed his spine. Instantly, his flesh blackened, his blood changed color, and his heart started pumping slower. He cried heavily when black dots dance across his vision. Lying in his own puddle, he perspired, agonized, surrendered.

"You'll s-stop?"

"I will," Drakon promised.

"O-okay. What d-do y-you w-want t-to k-know?"

"How did you get in?"

"Then y-you'll h-have t-to g-get r-rid o-of—"

And he choked, suffocating and sniveling.

Understanding, he produced a strong orb of darkness which quickly swept forward and severed his mental bonds. He flailed, bleeding and vomiting but functioning.

"He k-knew t-that Calder had been a-affected so he d-decided to u-upgrade us. To test us, h-he gave u-us a mission: to infiltrate the kingdom and r-rise in ranks. We p-pretended—"

"Stop!" Maximus ordered, but Calder silenced him.

"We p-pretended to be r-refugees and the f-foolish royals from the Populus Fusca believed us. We g-gained their t-trust," he confided, breaths billowing. "And we r-rose until w-we became what w-we are now. Then w-we instigated the b-battle. We c-contacted them when we knew the k-kingdom was the w-weakest and it almost worked. This k-kingdom is falling a-apart."

"But you killed many innocent lives! Children!"

"And you haven't either?" Nathan asked rhetorically. "Look at what you've done—at what you've succumbed to—Drakon. You're just as b-bad as we are."

"Are they any more traitors?" Drakon asked, evading his tactics.

"Not here."

"In my kingdom?"

"Not yet."

"Where?"

"In t-the Infrignando, Forti Animo, and Fatales k-kingdoms."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Drakon uttered before bashing his temples and staring at him when his eyes became lifeless and spiritless.

"You promised him!"

"I promised I would stop, which I did," Drakon deadpanned, his body heating unpleasantly. "But I never promised that I wouldn't kill him. And he should consider himself lucky because it was as painless as it could be."

"You treacherous—"

"Don't speak out, Maximus. I'm sure you remember that rule," Calder mocked. "Now, tell us, which kingdom is going to be attacked next?"

He spat.

"Classy," Calder stated before retrieving his sword. "I'm sure you're familiar with this sword. It's related to yours. Looks identical but it's not. It has a beautiful secret that I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. Tell me when the pain becomes too much, dearest Max."

Enthusiastically, he outlined his throat and imprinted the mark of his blade onto his jawline; he nicked his neck and traveled up, where he scratched his cheeks and slitted open his skin. Calder broke his nose, slashed his lips, and punctured one of his eyes. Feverishly, he elongated his wounds by starting at his temples and ending at the base of his throat. Carefully, he nicked it again, indulging himself further by shattering his collarbones and making him whimper.

Reminiscing, he grabbed his head and slashed through his hair, purposefully creating lacerations on his shaven head and teasing the veins popping from their place. He fought vehemently, but he faltered when Calder impaled the spaces in between his ribs and punctured his thighs. Blood poured, splashing everywhere.

"Please stop," he muttered, choking on his saliva.

"I'll gladly stop, dearest Max, but you have to tell us where you're going to attack next. And don't play stupid either because I know that you know."

"Then n-no."

"Then you've forced my hand," Calder teased viciously.

Maximus deflated when poisonous liquids surged through his veins. His eyes waned with fatigue, while his body convulsed. While grating his teeth, he fought against his restraints, but the poison made everything bleary and dark.

Calder traced his shaking limbs with his blade before stabbing his stomach and slicing his legs; he fractured his feet before rupturing his chest and making his blood boil.

"You're learning the secret of this sword," he murmured. "It's poisoned. But this poison kills you slowly. It's beautiful, isn't it?. I have the antidote, of course, but I'll only administer it if you give me what we need. I promise, dearest Max."

When her eyelids fluttered and faltered and finally failed, he surrendered; he convulsed, sniveling but glowering.

"They're a-attacking the Sirenis. They're n-next."

"When?"

"Tonight. That's w-why we w-were leaving. We n-needed to m-meet up w-with our t-troop."

"Where are they?"

"At t-the s-stream leading into t-the o-ocean."

"Any others attacks?"

"You know t-they a-aren't p-planned like that. It'll p-probably be p-planned t-tonight."

"Well, I must thank you for your information, Maximus. You've been very helpful."

"The a-antidote," he rasped.

With his features plastered with ecstatic pleasure, with his eyes shining and scintillating with morbid pleasure, he administered the antidote, which inflamed and burned his insides.

"You l-lied!"

"No, I didn't. Unfortunately, this blade only has one antidote, and it only solves the slowness of the poison, so instead of dying slowly, which you do deserve, you'll die quickly. Fortunately for us, unfortunately for you, you'll die painfully, just like how you deserve. I hope you rot in Hell with the rest of your companions."

"Then I'll s-see y-you t-there."

"Gladly. And then I'll be able to finish torturing you for betraying me and killing my mate."

"Treacherous son of a bi—"

His heart exploded; his eyes rolled from their sockets; his mouth gaped open; his body inflated dramatically before deflating

Calder straightened.

He suddenly froze, cheeks draining of color. Calder wheezed, eyes becoming larger and burlier with trepidation. Gapping, fighting, whining, his chest rose erratically. With his veins jumping against his neck, he stared at her. Calder focused on the apparent scratches on her skin, on the finger-shaped bruises covering her arms, on her whitening skin, on her dying and decomposing corpse, on her head lulling to the side and her lifeless, spiritless eyes staring into his corrupted soul.

His forehead felt overheated.

* * *

It was time.

Once they entered, Matthew glared at their upcoming forms and sprinted forwards. Leah crescent kicked him, but he crawled forwards and suddenly hunched over; she kicked his gut, while Artemis wandered forward and pervaded his mental barriers. His defenses cracked, letting her slither through.

Driven, she barreled through and strained the bonds flowing through his head. She severed the central one. He shrieked, clawing through his chest and scratching his own eyes with feverish intent. She destroyed the bond before retracting and wheezing.

Leah tackled him to the ground before pinning his arms and kneeing his chest. He surged and skyrocketed before barreling towards the exit. The guards behind the exit readied themselves, but the teenage rebel quickly extracted the doorknob from the socket and plummeted it through his throat, creating an irreparable hole; he collapsed, suffocating, choking and finally dying.

She gulped, startled.

Head bent, she refused to see them carrying the damaged, deformed corpse. Artemisia laid her hands on her shoulders, prompting her to turn around and gaze at her knowing but gloomy eyes.

"Does it happen it often?"

"This one was the least damaging," she confided.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it!

Another battle will be featured in the next chapter!

Also, the sequel is progressing slowly. I'm on chapter four, but I have to say that I love writing every part of it. The sequel will have the perspectives of Leah, along with Angela, Jake and Seth! But, of course, Leah's perspective will be the bulk of it.

Next update will be in two days!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: _Battle of the Sirenis_

Leah tensed, pupils broadening, eyes enlarging and throat tautening. She agilely flung herself across the branches, across the trees, and across the entire expanse. When she saw faint movements, the short but even intakes of breaths, the normal rise and descent of their chests, the rhythmic beating of their hearts, she hooted. Once three whistles responded, she plummeted, accompanied by Delia and Nico—both of whom catcalled and invited forward Drakon and Cara. Slowly, their majority reunited and circled their unsuspecting preys.

It was a massacre. A brutal, bloody but necessary massacre.

Without any qualms, Alistair, Damien, and Radley departed and dislodged their gall for the raving, raging barbarians who, after dissolving their initial shock, barged through the forest. When their salient teeth pierced through their skin, they dashed forward and crashed against the nearby trunks before purposefully falling to the ground and squeezing those underneath them. Before they regained their strength, they elbowed their throats and delivered the final, perilous blow.

Blossoming with an aurora of innocence, Sera incited forward blood-lusting beasts whose eyes scintillated. Eagerly, the varmints trudged forward without noticing the drastic change in the atmosphere. She shrieked, scampering but tripping and forcibly tearing up; she hyperventilated, crawling backwards and cornering herself against the trunks. When they stood arm's distance away, she smirked broadly, lips extending grotesquely. Promptly, she somersaulted off the trunk, spun, swiveled and settled herself into her opponent's back; she quickly snapped his neck before scurrying towards her next adversary, who punched her gut. He retreated but she sped forward and tackled him against a tree. Awaiting her opportunity, she ducked and dove sideway, scoffing when her enemy barreled into his comrade and landed unconscious. Knowing that they needed to be taken care of, she fractured their necks and fluttered off.

Lailah dodged and evaded their attacks. She grappled onto swaying branches, swung her feet forward and locked her ankles around their throats; she squeezed and squeezed, sucking the life out of her body before floating onward and conquering two more victims. Huffing, she rallied more—all of whom sped forward with impressive speed but clanged with frustration when she freighted. She darted among their heads and executed them with ease.

While humming, Charmeine conjured strange visions or beloved memories which coaxed them into drifting away from the main crowd and edging toward the tree-line. She followed them, changing and morphing her tenor with delicate emotions that lured them into an abyss of eternal glee. Without hesitating, she persuaded them into entering the stream and sticking their heads underneath. Promising eternal bliss, she forced them to stay, to remain still, to accept death. And they did.

Overpowered with adrenaline, Micah quickly purged their lands; he ducked the onslaught, which formed two formations. Micah sprinted forward before jumping on his heels and aiming himself at the fortified human barrier. With strength, he tore through the first layer and descended. He rose and then punched without stopping. Micah kicked them into one another before side kicking his nearest opponents; he grappled one by the collar before twisting his spine and paralyzing him. Enraged, the two levels swarmed him and pounced on him, but he hastily swung his human weapon back-and-forth. Finally, he cast him aside before thickening the atmosphere; his irises flashed, becoming stormiest and angrier—becoming menacing and deadly. Micah ruptured their chests and killed them when the water levels in their body quickly ascended, causing them to flounder and fall, completely lifeless.

Swelling with determination, Leah surmounted. Her adversaries launched themselves forward. She calculated the drop—the amount of feet between herself and her opponents—before purposefully landing on her nearest opponent. He growled and howled before pulling on her roots. Leah wrapped her legs around his neck, squeezing to the point where his previously occupied hands desperately flew to his neck, begging, pleading, but ultimately flailing and dying; she threw his body down, bringing several of her opponents to the ground, where their bodies became imprinted onto the surface and attracted the attention of her allies—some of whom stopped and trampled on their necks.

Triumphantly, she clambered forward, but she miscalculated and lapsed. Two rebels latched themselves onto her ankles and pulled her down, while she struggled and screamed with frustration. But she ultimately slackened her muscles and allowed herself to drift down. The whoosh revived her completely, fooling the soldiers into believing she had fainted. Leah scratched out their eyes before assassinating them and casting their bodies aide. Instantly, they scaled the trunks, relying on their instincts and expertise to guide them upward, then forward and sideways, where they launched as one formation. Thinking quickly, she soared upward before waltzing across the branches and angering her opponents.

After catching sight of two figures, she leapt towards the opposite side, where her allies quickly welcomed her; she glared when her adversaries lurched forward. When Aristo inflicted his ability, they fell onto their companions. Acacia rattled their frames and weaved in between them while watching their limbs became entangled onto one another. Flicking her wrists, the nearest to her recoiled and wrenched backward, but she quickly twisted his heads. Acacia laughed, attracting more attention from the waning crowd.

Stoically, Artemis elevated herself high above the ground and camouflaged herself with the trees; she targeted a large group of rebels, who instantly slowed down. Artemis forced them to fight against each other. Unwillingly, her troop sought their comrades and, as unsuspecting as they were, snapped their necks. With ease, she disposed of her troop and stopped when the branches above her swayed. Artemis cursed when around a dozen rebels surrounded her from all angles. Shrugging, she entered their mind sets and messed with their brain functions until they plunged to the ground—dead.

Admes and Acastus teamed together, paralyzingly and killing. While Acastus induced extreme vertigo upon his opponents, Admes surged forward and executed them quickly. They switched, taking turns and quickly running through their pile.

Together, Drakon and Cara breezed forward and combined their gifts together to create an orb of darkness and light; the two forces simultaneously blinded and murdered them.

A new cloud of darkness attacked the oppressive force of men, distending across the vicinity and exposing four regal immortals with hardened, darkened irises; they ambulated forward, seeking victims. Their victims instantly recoiled, swiveling but tottering and wheezing when the obscurity transformed, becoming human shapes which instantly walloped, kicked and forced them onto the ground. The shapes squatted and clamped their shadowy tendrils over their jugulars. They whimpered. And the obscurity blustered before slithering inside their mouths and reaching their hearts. They squirmed and screamed but eventually quieted.

The obscurity vanished.

And blood showered her.

* * *

The shadows dispersed and stretched along the sides before quickly slithering forward and circling the center; the darkness snaked forward, accompanying them as they traversed through the familiar forest. With her pupils dilating with animalistic desire, she dashed through the woods with her allies. Leah puffed, panted and perspired but proceeded forward. As she jumped through fallen trunks, she walked with Cara, who shot light and let Micah and his three sisters speed forward. Drakon grabbed her hand, helping her through and smiling nostalgically when she switched positions with him. She burst through the tree-line, eyes accumulating with helpless tears.

The distinct scent of sea salt—combined with a cold, whipping gale, dark sand filled with excrements, a great shower of blood produced by the ocean water, and large waves which thundered and rumbled—caused her to nearly vomit with misery.

The ocean was red.

From her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Micah and his sisters zooming to the far side of the beach; she followed and instantly ducked when someone launched themselves forward. Swiftly, she prodded the sinewy beast who had thrust himself forward; she propelled him against several trees and lacerated him until he died.

Leah hastened forward when shrills and threats echoed throughout the battlefield. Barbarians lurched forwards, eyes shining with desperation and blood-lust. When she eluded their greedy, expectant fingers, she side kicked their temples and grumbled when their jitter fingers grappled her ankles. When their hands flew towards her neck, she stomped on their throats.

When another rebel wrapped his arms around her neck, she kicked his assistant and watched as she collapsed but readily rose. Hurriedly, she ducked, zoomed forward, faked her attack, and then drooped down; she misstepped but slid forward, throwing her entire weight onto her shoulders. Her assailant leered when she outstretched her fingers, nails posed, legs kicking and cracking beneath her tensed form. Chortling with ironic pleasure, she strangled her—but not before serrating through the side of her face and piercing her waist with her nails. Leah tautened her frame before flinging her knees forward and hurling her opponent back. With one clear movement, she snapped her throat.

When deafening, ear-splitting clamors resounded throughout the vicinity, she spotted their stationed ships, and, thinking quickly, sprinted toward them with Seraphina, Nicodemus and the three Musketeers; she mounted one, while the other four scaled their own ships. Without hesitating, she pillaged the crates containing food and medicine, as well as other necessities.

She created fire, stuffed several bottles with fabric and threw it throughout the ship. The others mirrored her actions. When she tried to escape, two men hunted her down and restrained her, but she snapped her ankles forward and threw the other into the flames. Thinking quickly, she somersaulted and tackled her opponent. Leah lurched back when he broke her nose; she snarled before flinging herself forward and pinning him to the wall with fire. He screeched, grabbing her hair and burning her flesh. But she detangled herself and grabbed the other creature with her feet; she kicked him inside with his companion and watched them as they burned alive.

Frantically, she dove into the ocean and reunited with her comrades who nodded at their success. Leah themed when she heard high-pitched bellows, feverish shrieks, desperate roars and outcries, sudden blasts and shipwrecks. In that moment, two beasts wandered toward her.

A power-hungry immortal clobbered her, but Radley lurched forward and collided with the rebel; he hauled her to the opposite end, where he dunked her repeatedly and watched as her body floated on the surface. Purposely becoming becoming limp, Leah attracted attention and kicked her adversary's gut. Leah serrated her, side kicked her and then tackled her. The two fought in the water before Leah drowned her.

"Get out of the water now!" Sera commanded. She consented, seeking shelter with the trio who ushered her to the trees and gestured for her to climb one; she wandered up, where the majority of her comrades waited.

The Sirenis barraged through their human layers, breaking apart their remaining swarm by summoning a great tsunami that quickly killed them.

In a second, the rebels had fallen.

Their bodies were cremated.

* * *

They were on a cliff that overlooked the ocean. And a serene, soothing tenor surrounded her.

"We thank our valiant warriors—our loved ones— for their sacrifices today. Let us not remember them with sorrow but with happiness; let us remember them with sincere happiness and joy, for they have not died! They continue to live within us, in our hearts and minds and our spirits; they are with us when the wind blows, when the sun shines, when the moon shines; they are with us when we laugh and cry, when we talk and play, when we remember them in their times of greatness. They have not died! They live within us," Cedric proclaimed, soothing them.

"And I know that I will remember them in their times of happiness. I knew all of them. They were great people—great mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, daughters and sons. I knew all of them. I grew up with them, and I can still remember the times when we fooled around—and one of the many times we all got caught," Allegra said before pausing and laughing and shaking away her tears. "For some weird reason, we never thought we would get caught, even though all the children gathered together to play pranks on the adults and, if the adults hadn't done it, then who else would? Obviously, us. I remember that we planted blue dye throughout the water system and dyed our parents' bodies with it; the dye lasted around a week, in which we tried avoiding our parents who obviously caught us within the hour. We got lectured, but our parents were obviously the ones who passed us those traits because they got us back by gathering all of us together and planting starfishes onto our skin. And let me just tell you that starfishes are the singlehandedly worse object to place on someone because they suck and suck and never get off until you tickle them correctly."

Everyone laughed, reminiscing with joy.

"And so, I'll always cherish these memories. And I know that they'll always live with us. And I know that today is a day of grievance, but it is also a day of sweet remembrance."

They were cremated into ashes, handed to their family members, and dispersed among the ocean.

And the thunderous waves calmed, becoming placid and soothing.

* * *

Dark shadows resided under his eyes, which had darkened and dilated. His shadows contrasted with his sickly, ghastly, perspiring complexion. He vomited, grunting and gurgling and grousing from self-revulsion and self-loathing. Infuriated by his weakness, he retched once more; he clawed his heaving stomaching, willing it to stop, but he continued throwing up. Sneering and spitting, he furrowed his eyebrows, creased his sweat-drenched forehead, and glanced down at the filth accumulating on his body. Delia brushed his forehead with her fingertips before frowning and touching the rest of his body, which instinctively lurched forward.

Suddenly, he collapsed from over-exertion. He wheezed, running out of breath and bordering on hyperventilation. Delia crept forward and tried to help him, but he stumbled away from her. She righted him, but he vomited and fell sideways. His shoulders racked; his chest heaved. Suddenly, he leaned forward and vomited blood again and again until he finally shriveled. He looked pitiful with his arched spine, hunched shoulders, and loose fitting clothes that exposed his bones.

Nico carried him to his cot, while Delia flittered over his body.

"What happened?" Leah questioned.

"After all of you left, he developed a fever," Adara noted. "He said he needed to lie down, and he did. We supervised him and noticed that he started murmuring in his sleep and talking to someone. We thought he was having nightmares, but, when he woke up, he started screaming and crying. His fever got worse and some other symptoms started showing up ."

"Who was he talking to?" Artemis asked.

"Leila," Ly confessed.

"Then Delia's gift won't do anything," Leah stated.

"Not much," Carabelle affirmed. "She can only cure him physically, but since he's delirious—where he believes what his mind conjures—he won't get better. He'll continue to get worse until he can calm himself down."

From her peripheral vision, she glanced at Drakon who wobbled and wavered but righted himself.

Suddenly, he vanished.

* * *

A tall, stalwart form, covered by a bundle of blankets, quavered erratically with his pallid eyelids fluttering and drooping unsteadily. He hacked. Drakon was almost translucent with perspiration trickling from his forehead, heat radiating from the top of his head, stomach clenching and queasy, and with dark, contrasting circle forming underneath his eyes.

Leah stood rigidly, appalled by his deteriorating health.

Gradually, she plodded forth with tears in he eyes. Leah stopped when his somber eyes appraised her, but she rushed forward when he coughed and vomited blood.

Leah wrapped her arms around his shoulders and watched with dreary eyes as he nestled himself further into her hold.

"What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Leila. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have lead you there. I'm sorry, Leila," he wept.

"He must've had a fever, too, but he probably didn't think much of it," Adara intoned. "I checked on him at dawn. I should've checked him earlier. I should've."

"It's okay, Adara," Leah persuaded. "I'll look after him. I know that you have to meet with the others for an important meeting. I'll look after him, I promise."

"If anything happens—"

"I'll tell you," she vowed.

When she exited, he grinned with feverish delight.

"Leah," he uttered, savoring the taste of her name. "Darling?"

"It's me," she whispered.

"You've come back!" he exclaimed. "Oh, it's been so long! It's been a long few months! Everyone lost hope, but I didn't! I knew you would come back. Did you forget me?"

"N-no," she whispered, disheartened.

"Oh, we should go to the gardens! I know how much you like them. It'll be fun, and we can play and talk and joke, and I'll get everyone else. Oh, they're going to be so excited! So, so excited and happy! I love you, darling, and so does everyone else! They'll be happy! Oh and mom and dad—think about their faces when they see you! They'll probably cry! They missed you so much, darling. Everyone did. But now you're here, and we only missed a few months!"

She sobbed, shoulders racking, cheeks whitening, eyes reddening.

"Why are you crying? Are you sad? I'm sorry—"

"No, no, no," she muttered, wiping away her tears. "I'm just so, so happy to see you again. It's been too long."

"Come here, darling."

When she neared him, he enveloped her. His heat overwhelmed her, but she stayed still.

"You're sad."

"I'm happy."

"You're crying."

"From happiness."

"No, you're lying. I can tell, you know," he declared before kissing her forehead. "You're different."

"How?"

He surveyed her intently, scanning over her rugged appearance before furrowing his brows and gulping.

"You're older."

"I am."

"Why are you older?"

"Everyone gets older."

"But you looked nine. And now you're not."

"I'm almost nineteen."

"Nineteen? But then that would mean—"

"I'm older. Time passed," she interjected, sniffling.

"Then w-why a-am I—"

And he massaged his throbbing temples.

"I'm confused," he orated, sounding helpless and vulnerable. "Then we lost time."

"We did."

He shook his head.

"But w-we f-found a w-way, and t-that's h-how I s-saw your nine-year-old s-self. You w-were here!"

"I'm almost nineteen," she repeated. "You're confused, but that's okay."

He convulsed erratically, causing her to leap forward and anchor him down; he shouted and screamed, while she wept. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Leila? Leila! I'm so sorry!" he bellowed. "I killed you! I killed you!"

"Drakon, you didn't," she shushed him, but he continued.

"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Drakon, you didn't do anything," she coaxed. "You're not to blame."

"I condemned you! I'm sorry! I should've done something, but I just laid there. I should've done something!" he exclaimed before bewailing and bellowing.

"You tried your hardest! You couldn't do anything! And she knows it!" Leah shouted. "You did everything you could!"

"But—"

"Listen to me," she murmured. "You did as much as you could. And she forgives you. I know she does."

Instinctively, she touched his forehead with her forefingers and concentrated on calming him down; she brushed his burning head with her own forehead, quieting down his protests. Leah closed her eyes before placing her hands over his racing heart.

He stayed silent, glancing sideways. Following his line of sight, she saw nothing, but he outstretched his arms and sighed. He mouthed and murmured incoherently, but his heart slowed. His eyelids fluttered until he finally closed them.

Drakon reposed.

After an hour, his fever lowered dramatically. After a few hours, it ceased.

When he woke up, he yawned and glanced at their intertwined hands; she smiled with sincerity when he squeezed her hands.

"Do you remember?"

"No. What happened?"

"You had a fever."

"I don't remember anything," he revealed. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing too important," she disclosed before loosening her tight grip on his hands; his previously whitened knuckles filled with color.

"Thanks. I thought I was going to lose my hand," he joked, guffawing when she playfully swatted his shoulder.

"Darling?"

"Yeah?" she asked, confused.

"I'm really glad to see you."

"And I'm glad to see you," she responded genuinely.

* * *

Thank you for reading, guys! Thanks, brankel1, for reviewing!

Next chapter will be a bit longer and will show some insight as to why Calder is cooperating.

Update will be in two days!


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: _Do You Understand?_

Calder hyperventilated and surmounted before straightening and rocketing forward; he wobbled and wavered, but he still trekked towards the exit. Gulping, he clamped his hands around the wall and walked forwards. Knees trembling, breaths billowing, he stepped forwards and viciously fought against the wave of nausea rippling throughout his body. Chanting under his breath, he trooped forward and floundered, but he managed to creak open the door. Eyes widening, he recoiled, attracting immediate attention from his men; he immediately squared his shoulders, gritted his teeth, and fixed his posture.

"What are you doing, Calder?"

With hardened features, the regal immortal strutted forward, exposing his expressive, allusive irises, cropped, onyx hair, and swarthy skin. Instinctively, he shrouded his eyes and watched without flinching when he neared him. His vivid eyes kindled and flared with an emotion he could not decipher.

"What are you doing, Calder?" he repeated.

"I'm just going—"

"You're not supposed to be up. Why are you disobeying orders?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Where were you going?"

"Nowhere important, sir."

"You're losing your touch, Calder. You can't lie to me."

"Of course not, sir," Calder verbalized, eyes downcast.

He circled him and eyed him critically before smirking and clamping his hands over his shoulders.

"You've found your mate," he vocalized.

"I have," Calder recited, stiffening.

"And you can have her," he proclaimed, chuckling when his eyes widened with astonishment. "You didn't think I would take her away from you, did you?"

"She's from a different side—"

"Well, that's unfortunate, but it can easily be fixed," he stated, deflecting.

"Thank y-you, s-sir."

"It's no problem really," he declared. "We're friends, Calder. We've known each other since birth. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't give you two a chance? Of course, she has to agree, which she might not unless there's leverage. Don't worry, Calder, she'll learn to love you after a while. Maybe not instantly, but it'll happen."

"But—"

"No really—this is my treat, Calder. Enjoy it."

"And she'll live even if she refuses?"

"She won't refuse."

"And if she does?" Calder prompted carefully. "Will she live?"

"Of course, Calder. She'll live."

"Thank you, Adastros," Calder orated gratefully.

"Come on," Adastros disclosed. "I'll get Nathan and Maximus; they'll make sure that your mate will live with you forever. But first, go make sure that your mate feels well. We'll catch up with you."

Driven, he returned and stared at his fiery mate who scoffed and scowled but eventually sweetened and softened her facial features. With her hazel irises—incredibly allusive and vivid, expressive and intelligent—with her smooth, tanned complexion, with her ruffled, chestnut tendrils, she appealed to him, especially with her incredibly witty and determined personality.

When she harmonized, she roused forgotten sentiments—sentiments he had previously locked away; she awakened and provoked him into walking forward. His pupils dilated, and his gaze glossed over. Enraptured, he cracked and neared her. When her lullaby strengthened, he moved closer and gravely brushed her chains. With her oversized bottom lip—which instinctively pouted when she chirped—with her enlarged irises, with her grimy and expectant frame, he vanquished his demons and tore through her restraints. She glanced at him, lips puckered, stare wide and broad with astonishment.

Before she could act, the door opened, exposing a considerable group of men and women who instantly impelled themselves forward. They pushed him away from her and twisted her hands behind her back. Breaking her concentration, she shrilled and thrashed; she sought Drakon, who spontaneously shattered his chains and rushed forward. Calder stepped forward, infuriated, but he backtracked when he realized that it was part of the plan. When Drakon penetrated the human layers and grabbed Leila's hand, Calder whipped his head in their direction but refused to move.

With confidence and ease, Adastros emerged from the multitude, and, after flicking his wrists, blew them back; his subordinates quickly pounced on their tautened forms and towed them forward.

"I was really hoping you wouldn't use your gift against your mate, little Leila, but it seems to me that you care more about your cause than the possibility of living the rest of eternity with your mate," Adastros recited before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I had so much planned for you. So much. It's such a shame."

Croaking, Drakon jerked forward, knocking one of his subordinates down and hurriedly imprinting his mark onto his throat. In an instant, her assailant tightened his grip over her throat, marking the sides of her neck with his handprints. Leila kicked his groin and punched his temples. When his vivacious comrade sped forward, Leila pivoted and pushed her back, causing her to totter slightly. She lurched forward and serrated her flesh before casting her away. Two toppled over, landing sideways and banging against the hard surfaces around them.

Drakon somersaulted before clamping his fingers around his adversary's pressure points and flinging her onto the floor, where he repeatedly trampled on her chest, causing her ribs to fracture and puncture her compacted lungs. Without pausing, Drakon killed his opponent.

Adastros exalted and cackled, summoning him forward.

"Remember what we spoke about, Calder," Adastros orated before glancing at him meaningfully.

Consenting, he penetrated Drakon's mental barriers and inflicted searing pain throughout his form. Drakon plunged to the ground, holding his head in his tremulous hands, squeezing his eyes tightly, but keeping his mouth firmly closed. Calder cranked up the intensity, forcing him to shrivel. Fervently, his mate dashed forward and directed herself in front of his pathetic frame. Instinctively, he ceased, exhaling with relief when his abilities retracted in time.

"That's weird," Adastros commented mindlessly but suspiciously, which alarmed him. "Calder's gift doesn't work on you, but your gift works on him."

Quietly, Maximus and Nathan snaked behind them. Together, they towed them away and flung them inside their torture chamber, where the metallic odor of blood and the stench of urine permeated, where the flesh of previous victims and vomit layered the ground. With admiration, he stared at her when she snapped and thundered at the guards who retrieved her and imprisoned her. With his temples throbbing, with his forehead creasing, with his eyes darkening, Drakon bled from the intensity of his abilities.

"Let her go! Let everyone go! I'll do anything," Drakon exclaimed desperately.

"I'm sorry, dearest Drakon, but your little darling is worth more at the moment, and I'm sure this experience will be beneficial for both parties," Adastros reported before diverting his gaze. "Calder, try your gift on Leila again. I want to make sure it wasn't an accident."

After concentrating on her snarling figure, on her gaping mouth, on her expectant eyes, on her revulsion-marred features, he refused to impose his gift onto her and instead retracted.

"It doesn't work," Calder rendered, backtracking.

"Then I guess I'll have to rely on other sources. Maximus, you're handy with tools. Would you mind working your magic on little Leila?" Adastros prompted before focusing on his stiff figure. "And, Nathan, take care of Drakon. It seems like Calder's gift stunned him, but I don't want Leila to be the only one having fun."

Calder straightened and stoned his facial expression, but he diverted his attention to the eager participants who betrayed his trust. He prayed in vain.

Eagerly, Maximus bared his weapons and smirked broadly when Nathan retrieved more chains and a short but twisted, poisoned knifed, whose jagged edges severed his flesh. He sliced and sundered his insides. Swallowing hard, he withered and nearly retched when his warden severed his chest with his weapon. Chortling with dark humor, he tossed Drakon upside down and tightened his bondages over his throat and wrists. Tearing his shirt, he exposed his back and savagely mutilated his back; he mangled and ribboned his flesh, yanking pieces and throwing them onto the floor. Bellowing, he banged his body against the table, but he yelped when his neck bled profusely.

Calder watched stoically, briefly remembering younger, more innocent times in which the two joked, talked and apologized, played and frolicked, resembling brothers. But he banished those treacherous thoughts and remained silent.

"Let him go!" Leila screeched, chest ascending and descending with raw emotion. "Let him go! I'll do anything! I swear! You animals! Savages!"

Lengthening the blade, he wedged apart his flesh. With his weapon, he skimmed his ribcage and grazed his spine. Rapidly, his flesh blackened, and his heart pumped slower. While lying in his pile of waste, he fought but coughed and hacked, dripping, perspiring and agonizing.

"Maximus, begin," Adastros declared, frightening him.

He outlined her throat with his sword before scratching her; he traced the base of her neck before wandering up and deforming her face with his blade. His muscles tensed; his heart hammered; his blood boiled. He created longer, more perilous wounds which started from her crown and ended at the very start of her collarbones. Remorselessly, he punched her nose, breaking it before roughly cutting her hair and creating lacerations on her shaven head. Drakon bellowed and struggled. But it was too late. Nathan fractured his knees, incapacitating him.

"Please stop," he muttered, choking on his saliva.

Calder straightened. His narrowed eyes focused on her convulsing frame. He wanted to rush forward, but it was just a test. If he moved, Adastros would doubt his loyalties and murder her without any concern. But if he stayed still, she lived. Resolved, he remained silent but wary.

After tracing her limbs, he impaled her stomach twice before moving onto her legs and slicing them completely; he fractured her feet, moving onto her knees, following her wrists and shoulders and her collarbones. He ruptured her chest, making her lungs compact.

Calder twitched, but Adastros analyzed him—tested him.

"Stop," she muttered. "Let him go. Let us all go. You savages will rot once—"

"Once what?" Adastros prompted. "Begging and threatening doesn't flatter you, Leila."

Calder instinctively walked forward. With his irises hardening, with his jaw squaring, he perceived the malicious and warning glint kindling in Adastros' eyes.

"Luckily for you, your troops are coming. And I'm afraid to tell us this, Leila, but you aren't going home. I really enjoyed your spirit, but sadly your existence harms my cause," Adastros mentioned, causing Calder to snap his head around and stare at him with an emotion Drakon could not decipher. "Maximus, kill her."

Astonished, Calder stood still as Maximus murdered her with his features plastered with ecstatic pleasure. His eyes shone and scintillated with perverted pleasure. Drakon howled when she died, head bashed, eyes unmoving, mouth gaping open.

His hope died. He nearly crumbled. His throat clogged; his mind whirled; his heart clenched painfully.

"You animals! H-how c-could y-you do this? H-how c-could you watch?"

"We really must be going now, Drakon. I know we'll meet soon—under different conditions, of course. Calder, carry the body. We're taking her. Maximus and Nathan, make sure the chains are tightened. I don't want him to escape before his father arrives," Adastros divulged before exiting and expecting him to follow.

Numbed completely, he carried his vivacious mate who now possessed a deformed, faceless frame with a demented face-shape, with protruding bones, with lacerated skin, with blood staining her ripped flesh and issuing from her wounds, with a gaping, gasping mouth, with her head wide open, with her shaven head sinking, with her neck nicked on one side, with her collarbone completely shattered, with her chest compacted, with scars shining lucidly, with wounds darkened and twisted, with her soul soaring.

"You promised," he rasped once he regained his strength.

"And I kept it," Adastros stated. "I gave her a chance. I used leverage. And she is with you, isn't she?"

"She's not alive," he spat, barely suppressing himself from shrilling and shrinking and sundering him.

"She's alive within you, isn't she? She'll continue to live in your memories. And you'll be able to see her when you want," he proclaimed before softening his features. "I'm sorry, Calder, but she didn't want to change her ways, and she would only bring you down. She would've killed you the moment she had the chance. I just wanted to protect you, Calder. Do you understand?"

He suddenly understood; he understood what he had been warned against ever since he had moved in with the royals. He finally understood.

"I do."

* * *

A celestial and spiritual being with empathetic jade eyes, soft, rounded cheekbones, flaxen ringlets, a heart-shaped face, a flawless complexion, and a dimpled grin, wandered forward before twirling him around and around until he guffawed and snickered and applauded; his mother suddenly stopped, eyes sparkling with genuine glee. Surprising him, she dove forward and twirled him until the two of them toppled over; she embraced him before tousling his dark locks and squinting, attracting his immediate attention.

"What?" he asked self-consciously.

"I think—no, I know that you've—"

"I've what?" he prompted eagerly.

"You've grown! Oh, you look absolutely darling, Calder. Eventually, you'll leave your poor, old mother behind!"

"Never!" he declared, hugging her tightly. "I love you, mommy. And I'm a big boy now. I'm four!"

"Are you sure?" she joked, eyes crinkling at the sides.

"One hundred percent!"

"And you'll always be my little boy," she vowed with motherly tenderness.

"And you'll always be my mommy!"

"Calder!"

He instantly recoiled but eventually straightened and glanced between his infuriated father and his driven mother, who continuously rubbed her swollen stomach and directed herself in front of him.

"Calder, you're supposed to be fighting," his father reprimanded. "Why aren't you there?"

"I didn't w-want to g-go," Calder stammered. "They a-always h-hurt me."

"And that's how you learn."

"Calder, baby, why don't you go home? I'll be there soon," his mother soothed.

"Calista—"

"Classes will probably end the moment he steps through the door. Listen to me, Calder, go home. I'll be there soon," she repeated before tickling his sides.

Sniggering, he skipped to the opposite side, faked his retreating footsteps, and concealed himself in the shadows. In an instant, his father grabbed her forearms, but she deflected him and crossed her arms. Her eyes blistered and broiled with revulsion.

"You're babying him—"

"I'm educating him."

"You're killing him, Calista! You're making him weak! He should be training day-and-night; he should be rising in the ranks and intimidating others because this position is rightfully his. I'm Alecto's right hand. He has to become Adastros' right hand. No one else can do it, but you're babying him—and you know the dangers of it! You know, Calista, because you're crafty and deceitful, oh you little bit—"

"Call me names and I won't hesitate to rip your tongue out," she responded. "You can call your prostitutes and mistresses anything you like, but you will pay me respect, Raiden."

"What have you done to deserve it?" he retaliated, scoffing. "You're worthless, pathetic—"

"Funny coming from you," she reiterated, chuckling loudly. "We both know what would happen if there was ever a direct battle between the two of us. We both know."

"You don't know—"

"And we both know who the real second-in-command is. You think you have the title, but my dearest brother trusts me a whole lot more than you. Now excuse me, my dearest Raiden, I have to go home to my child."

"Our child!" he warned. "And don't walk away from me."

"I'm his mother and, as long as I live, I will educate him as I please. He will never become a monster, like you and the vindictive parasites in this Hell," she vowed.

"You better watch what you promise, Calista. Promises are deadly."

"I'm willing to take my chances. Go screw your worthless bloodsucker of a mistress," she verbalized before pivoting and staring at him with hardened resolve. "Oh, but it's Tuesday, isn't it? Who's day is it?"

"You're psychotic."

"Then it's fitting that I'm your soul mate."

Undetected, Calder escaped.

* * *

Nighttime descended.

Dramatically sweetened, his father stroked his mother's protruding stomach.

"It's a girl."

His fingers faltered.

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent."

His eyes became steely.

"Yay! I'll have a baby sister!" Calder exclaimed joyously, rushing over to his mother, who giggled and exulted but ultimately hardened when his father's fingers squeezed her skin.

"Calder, go to your room. Your father wants to congratulate me alone," his mother vocalized before kissing his creased forehead.

"Will you come upstairs for a bedtime story?" he asked innocently but with his eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed, and cheeks whitened.

"I will," she promised. "Now go upstairs and get ready."

Wordlessly, he walked towards the staircase, ascended a few steps, summoned his shadows, and forced them up; he descended and dove into the dark alcove he used to play hide-and-seek with his mother.

"A girl!" he shouted, relying on her ability to silence their sounds from outside sources.

"A girl," she repeated while distancing herself.

"We can't have a girl! We were ordered to have a boy!"

"We couldn't possibly choose the gender of our child!" she shouted. "And having a baby girl will not shatter our lives. Gender doesn't matter, and you know it. She'll be strong."

"No, she'll be weak like Calder! And Alecto doesn't want any weak links, Calista! He specifically said he wanted us to have a strong boy—"

"So he can attempt to demoralize him!" she interjected. "Something that he has not achieved with Calder and will not achieve as long as I live! And our baby girl will not follow your footsteps or his or anyone else's!"

"Including yours?" he taunted. "Let me remind you that you've participated in torturing, killing, bombing, and in large scale massacres; you're the central mind of this entire organization. You call me a monster; you call everyone a monster, but you're right up there, Calista. You're the definition of a monster."

"And I've never claimed to be otherwise," she stated. "I just want to save my children. And you know I won't stop at anything."

"Then you know that I won't stop at anything to help Calder because this is what he is meant to do—this is who he is meant to be—so he can survive."

"Survive?"

She sneered and ridiculed him.

"He'll survive for a while, if he follows you, but he won't live."

"You've suddenly gained a conscience," he noted.

"And you've lost yours."

"Well, you better be prepared when Alecto hears about this because he will hear about this, Calista."

"You should be prepared, Raiden. You're the one who has the sperm. I'm merely a carrier. I don't determine gender—your body does. And Alecto is my brother. And you're merely an insignificant soldier who managed to rise in rank because you tied yourself down to his sister. Let me remind you that I'm the real second-in-command, and that's driving you crazy."

He bolted, seething, while she spun and circled the room; she stopped and swooped down, seizing him from the dark profundities.

"You heard."

"I did," he affirmed, although it wasn't necessary.

"I'm sorry that you heard."

"I'm not. I need to know."

"You're right, but you're a child. You're my baby boy," she defended; her tenor fluctuated and wavered.

"And my sister?" he questioned, worried. "What will happen?"

"Nothing, baby. Absolutely nothing."

But she lied. He could tell. But he stayed silent. Always so silent.

* * *

Calista zoomed forwards when muted grievances, accompanied by persistent, heart-wrenching shrieks and threatening exclamations, frequent swallowing and bellowing, resonated throughout their civilization, which grew chaotic and hazardous, which grew deranged and disordered when treacherous creatures pillaged their belongs, wrenched apart families.

She barged through the entrance, immediately spotting Calder; he hid near the alcove, trembling, shaking, quivering, sniveling.

"Mommy!"

"We're leaving, Calder. Come here!"

"Mommy, what's happening?"

"It's too dangerous here for us," she stated before sealing the entrance and quieting their presences with her abilities. "Now, Calder, this is extremely important. I want you to listen to me. Always follow me unless I say otherwise. Always stay quiet. Always listen to me. It's important, baby."

"We're going to get killed, aren't we?"

"You won't, but we have to leave now."

"And you?"

"I'll be okay."

"And my baby sister?"

"She'll be okay."

"But you're pregnant, mommy."

"Calder, please stop asking questions. We don't have time, baby," she pleaded desperately. He consented.

"Get into the alcove."

He obliged and watched as she entered and closed the door behind herself; he riveted her when she crawled forward, pressed her fingers against the surface, and backtracked. She triggered a secret opening, which shut behind them once they descended. Silently but quickly, she towed him along and crawled through the path until they arrived at another aperture, which opened with her touch; she pulled him up before leading him deeper and deeper into the woods.

Suddenly, she stopped, nostrils flaring and billowing.

"This is the part that I talked about. You have to climb the trees, hide yourself with your gift, and never come out. Do you hear me, Calder? Don't come out until an entire day has passed by. You know how to hunt. I want you to do that. But whatever you do, don't go back home. It's too dangerous. I want you to cross this forest, leave it, enter the Forbidden Forest and don't drink any of the water. Near the tree-line, you'll see a group of people. They'll help you. They're expecting you."

"Mommy, but that's—"

She shushed him.

"Listen to me, Calder. Listen to me," she ordered harshly before softening her features. "I love you, my baby boy."

"I love you, too, and I love my baby sister," he answered; his voice wobbled and wavered, faltered and failed.

"Now go."

And he climbed the tree until he reached the darkness and converged with the obscurity. He camouflaged completely with it.

Immediately, a group of raving, raging barbarians barreled through, scavenging, searching, sneering when they neared her. With premeditated precision, she waited until the russet-skinned varmint neared her; she abruptly side-kicked and groin kicked the two cronies who had crept behind her. She dislocated their shoulders, broke their collarbones, and snapped their necks. Eight remained.

When four circled her, she mirrored their movements before lurching forward, seizing the nearest, punching him repeatedly and isolating him from the rest of his group. With her salient teeth exposed, she positioned him in front of herself but, when his comrades discarded her threat, she sunk her teeth into his flesh and savagely ripped apart his throat. Rapidly, she ducked, dodged, and dove sideways before latching herself into her opponent's arm; she climbed and brought him to the ground, where she brutally fractured his neck and rolled underneath her upcoming adversaries. They jeered and salivated, but they immediately collapsed. Their bodies instantly aged before decomposing and decaying. The wind dispersed their remains. Two remained.

The two pursued her until she miscalculated and flew back; the duo ensnared her before retrieving their hidden knife and repeatedly impaling her stomach with it. She shrieked, cussing but not pleading; she wept and lamented but vowed to murder them, while they tackled her to the ground and plunged the knife inside of her, forcing her unborn baby to fall through. She faced her fate of being sliced and diced in front of her, while she withered and bellowed.

"You're going to wish you were dead because if I get my hands on you—"

They serrated her throat. Eyes widening, she choked and croaked, eyes dilating with animalistic sorrow.

"No!" Calder screeched before rushing forward and condensing the obscurity around himself. He bellowed and wailed and asked the darkness to creep around their ankles. Startled, they dispatched, but the darkness seethed and murdered them.

"Mommy!"

She cried.

"I'm sorry!"

She mouthed something he couldn't decipher.

"Don't leave!"

But she did. She left him.

He remained by her side, hugging her, cuddling with her frigid body, humming and pretending that her heart continued beating frantically underneath his throbbing head.

"Calder!"

He remained silent.

"Calder!"

His father bounded forward, filled with immense relief. Briefly, his eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn't decipher before his irises settled with sorrow.

"Calder, your mother is dead. Come here," his father commanded.

"Mommy died," he repeated. "Baby sister died."

"Come here."

And he did.

"I killed. Mommy didn't want me to do that."

"But you were protecting her."

"But she said—"

"Calder, in order for you to survive and thrive, you will need to kill. Do you want to be strong and stop this from happening to others? Because this is what will happen to our people if the other side gets to them."

"The other side did this?"

"They did," he confirmed, angering him.

"We'll cremate them—honor them in our hearts but move forward. You and I have a duty to our people— to our cause. Do you promise to help, Calder?"

He glanced at his deformed sister before staring at his bloody mother and affirming.

"I promise."

And they cremated them. It felt wrong. Horribly wrong.

And then he disobeyed his mother by following his father. It felt wrong. But at the same time, horribly right.

The obscurity followed him—stuck to him like a second skin.

* * *

Calder backtracked and retreated before flying back and withering in the hands of an adult, whose face contorted drastically, becoming deformed and pronounced; his eyes narrowed, becoming slits that showed his lust for blood. When he roared, he roundhouse kicked him, hitting his core; he collapsed, bringing him down with him. Calder kicked his groin and overturned him. His claws embedded themselves into his calf, but he merely twisted his neck back-and-forth until he grew bored and snapped his neck.

His blood spilled. But his hardened heart didn't care.

Everyone applauded him, while he mindlessly smirked and departed. Calder headed toward his house until he heard abrupt exclamations, followed by elated shrieks, subdued whispers, and desire-filled words. Wrinkling his nose with distaste, he rounded the corner—set on evading the pair of lovers until he spotted his father nipping a familiar curvaceous woman with raven waves, dark eyes, swarthy skin, and a disgusting coy smile.

"What are you doing?" Calder shouted, appalled.

"Calder," his father rehearsed placidly. "This is Adeline—"

"I know who she is," he proclaimed dangerously. "I want to know why you're with her."

"Calder—"

"You vivacious skank, you easy whore, who the—"

"You will not speak to her in that manner, Calder. Respect her."

"Respect her?" he asked before cackling. "She disgusts me. You used to invite her to our gatherings; she used to hang out with my mom. Did you—"

"I would never cheat on your mother, Calder. I never did. Your mother is dead."

"So what is she?"

"Adeline, leave. I need to talk to my son."

Calder barked, chortling with laughter and ironic pleasure.

"Calder, you're behaving psychotically!"

"Then it's fitting that I'm your son."

His eyes kindled and inflamed before becoming chilly.

"She's nothing more than a vessel for pleasure. As you grow older, you'll realize that you have certain needs that need to be satisfied and she does just that."

"Are there more?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Four more."

"And you never cheated on my mom?" Calder questioned.

"Never," he repeated.

Calder deflated but believed him. And that was his mistake.

* * *

Knees buckling, he hunched over. His eyelids throbbed; his fingers trembled; his mouth gaped and gasped but closed repeatedly, alternating between cursing and damning and bellowing to the top of his lungs or shutting completely and evading the truth. Gulping, he attempted to rise, but he crumpled into his fetal position with his knees brushing his chin and his breaths billowing frantically. Serrating his chest, he tore through his chapped lips. His mouth closed, his fists closed, his heart closed.

He rose without hesitating.

His father had deserved his brutal death; that conniving, deceitful, traitorous bastard deserved his horrible end for cheating and betraying his mother, for accusing her of being a double agent, for accusing her of conceiving a child with the light side, for convincing her own brother to execute the decision, for organizing the entire ploy of attacking their village and making it seem like the other side had killed her.

Alecto would pay for his decision to murder his mother.

Alecto had already ordered his father's death; he had made him believe that the other side had killed him, when in reality they hadn't.

Everyone would pay. Everyone. Including himself.

* * *

Scintillating splendors erupted from the obscurity, breaking, tearing, seeking and hunting him down; the lightness enveloped him, welcoming him forward and coaxing him into environing it.

Suddenly, the light morphed into the image of his mother; her lithe frame followed, resembling her exact form and her movements when she barreled forward and spun him around and around until he toppled over and cuddled with her.

"Mommy," he whispered incredulously.

"Oh, my baby boy," she murmured before weeping. "You're so much older. So much older!"

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I didn't follow your orders. I followed Raiden and—"

She shushed him before latching herself tightly around his shoulders and righting him.

"You've committed horrible crimes, but so have I. But you're righting them just like I did."

"I've ruined my chances of ever relieving my conscience," he muttered, sniveling. "I killed my mate."

"Are you absolutely sure?" she questioned, dubious.

"Of course."

"Did you perform the funeral ritual to ensure she died?"

"I wasn't allowed to have the body or give her a funeral," he divulged. "Adastros kept her body. He never said what he did with her."

"Calder, baby, I love you, and I want you to know that it wasn't your fault. My death wasn't your fault either. You have committed horrible acts, but you are righting yourself. I know because I faced it. Your mate died, but you can still help. Use her as a strength because she is not a weakness. She is your strength. I love you, baby, and I wish I could speak to you more, but I can't. Just know that you can trust them. Now wake up, Calder."

Abruptly, he resurfaced, coming straight from underwater and jolting up.

"He's okay!" Delia exclaimed, relieved. "The water worked. His fever went down!"

Instead of focusing on Delia, he concentrated on Adara, who dipped her head and tried to exit.

"Can I talk to you?" Calder questioned. She consented, and everyone immediately dispersed.

"Why did you use your gift? Why did you let me talk to her?"

"You remind me of my son in some ways. And I promised your mother I would help you. You were supposed to meet us in the Forbidden Forest; your mother was a double agent, but your father didn't know that. He just accused her of it without knowing; he just wanted to get rid of her—and Alecto, of course, loathes traitors and immediately got rid of her. Your father thought she was weakening you, and she knew that he wanted to get rid of her, especially after she learned that their baby was a girl. She just knew," Adara clarified. "Of course, you already learned that, but I just needed to repeat it. I promised her to protect you. And I did for a while until you left. And I expect to protect you now, although I can't do it if you don't obey, Calder. So I'm asking you, Calder, will you obey us?"

"I will," he answered sincerely. "I will."

"Thank you for everything, Adara. Thank you for summoning her one last time."

"You're welcome. I figured that she would help you. Did she?"

"She did," he recited genuinely.

And she had.

"Adara, I wanted to know if it was possible for you to summon Leila."

"I can't. I already tried, but I can't," she revealed, grimacing. "I can bring back the dead for just a few minutes and never for more than once or twice, but I couldn't reach her."

"Has that happened before?"

"Never."

* * *

He trotted down the corridors before descending the staircase and glancing at the passing guards, who respectfully eyed his exiting form. Following his memory, he galloped down the concealed passageway, bulleted across the expanse, climbed down the staircase, grimaced at stretching vines, and, when he noticed the two figures sitting on the grass with their backs facing him, he walked forwards and silently sat beside them. Together, they riveted the growing moon.

"You look better," Drakon commented idly.

"Thanks. I heard you had a fever, too."

"I did, but I'm better now."

"That's good," he rehearsed before puffing uncomfortably. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"For?" Drakon prompted.

"Everything. When we were children, I really hated you. I debated ways to torture you, but I knew I would get in trouble. And I didn't want to face the same fate as my father. He was facing execution or life imprisonment. I didn't want that. But that experience—the one where we were both being threatened—really showed me how alike we were—yet how different. Obviously, you were innocent. I wasn't. I had already tortured and killed. But you helped me, and we defeated them. We became partners from that day. Eventually friends. And I really did think of you as a friend," he confided. "I know I wronged you and everyone else. I really did. When my father was murdered, I was convinced it was your father or your mother or someone closely related to all of you. So I left. I betrayed you all.

"And then I watched Leila die. And I helped. And I didn't do anything when he gave the order. Trust me, I've tortured myself with that memory; I've embedded it into my mind. And I swear if I could go back in time and save her, I would. In a heartbeat. I would've sacrificed myself for her. I didn't know her, but she did impact me."

"How?" Drakon questioned emotionlessly.

"She reminded me of my mom. And I let my mom die. And I let her die," he confessed. "My mom was witty and fiery and direct; she didn't take anything from anyone, and that's how Leila was, wasn't she?"

"She was," Drakon stated; his features contorted with sorrow.

"Well, when I researched afterwards and found that I had been lied to about everything, I changed my loyalties. When I came here, I hated everyone. I still did up until my fever. But I realized that I didn't hate anyone. I just hated myself for my actions. So I've apologized to everyone except to you, Drakon, and to you, Leah," he stated. "Drakon, I betrayed you, and I know I killed you in a sense. And I know I can never truly show you how much I regret everything that I did, but I'm really sorry. I truly am."

Drakon stayed silent, but he detangled his constricted muscles.

"I've realized that hatred is poisonous," Drakon declared. "And I've realized that we all have to forgive eventually. I've decided that today is the day. It's time for change."

"Thank you," he started before turning toward Leah. "I tortured you. And I enjoyed it because I really hated you, Leah. And it wasn't because of you. Not at all. It was because you reminded me so much of Adeline. I wasn't torturing you; I was torturing her. You resembled her physically. Of course, you were a child but your dark skin, your dark hair, your dark eyes, your same fiery disposition, sparked the memory of her. I hated her with so much passion. I hated all of his mistresses, but I hated her the most. She insulted the memory of my mother and tortured me. And just seeing you—well, it's inexcusable. You didn't deserve anything. Nothing at all. I really don't deserve your forgiveness or even expect it but—"

"I do," she interjected, surprising him. "I've lived a life of resentment and bitterness, and I want to get past it. I need to get past it. So you're in luck because I forgive you. Just know that if you screw up again, I'll kill you."

Her mouth tightened and straightened but eventually broadened.

"Her humor's killer," Drakon warned, chuckling. "She really knows how to lighten the mood."

"It's my speciality," she retaliated, smirking.

"You two are really something," Calder proclaimed impulsively.

"I'm normal. She's not," Drakon verbalized, earning him several slaps on his shoulder.

"You're horrendous. I'm leaving. Unlike you, I have important business to attend to," she declared before dusting herself off and prancing away.

"Like reading to the girls?" Drakon called before guffawing when she stuck her tongue out and rushed inside.

"You really like her," Calder stated.

"I do."

"But you two aren't—"

"No, we agreed to stay friends. We both need time. And well, she's my best friend. I would rather stay like that for a while," he confided, smiling slightly. "Come on. It's getting late. We should go home."

"Home?" he whispered.

"Home," Drakon resolved. And Calder smiled with sincerity.

* * *

Disoriented, she drifted and disappeared. Lost, she slid back until she slipped and landed head-first into the obscurity.

It was dark; it was threatening, yet auspicious.

Her eyes palpitated; her heart hammered; her ears perked; her eyes prowled the environment, derived from complete darkness with the sole exception of the torches issuing light from the center of the expanse. Curiously, she wandered forward but flinched; she stalked forward and caressed the dark tendrils skimming her shoulder blades.

"With the underground passageway, we'll be able to completely undertake them. They won't be able to understand it and will be stunned. It's a brilliant plan," Adastros explained.

"You're right, son. It's brilliant. We'll prepare the soldiers and launch the attack before dusk," Alecto approved.

But Adastros stiffened and tensed, slowly swiveling and scanning the vicinity before regarding her. Squinting, he stepped forward but backtracked and continued looking; he searched but could not find her.

"I thought I saw something. I thought I felt something. But there's nothing there."

"Are you sure?" Alecto prompted.

He extracted himself from his father's side and walked in her direction before staring at her intense gaze; he neared her, breaths billowing into her face, smile appearing and broadening with every passing second.

"Positive."

And his indecipherable expression embedded itself into her mind as she suddenly skyrocketed. Alarmed, she banged on the doors and shouted; she climbed down the stairs and summoned Alistair, who hastened to retrieve his superiors. Fully awakened, her allies followed her, frightened by her impulsive actions.

"Leah, what's wrong?" Cara inquired, concerned.

"What's wrong?" Adara repeated once she arrived.

"I had a dream where I saw Adastros and Alecto. I overheard their conversation. I don't know if it's a dream or an actual premonition or event. I don't know, but it's worth a try to listen to it," Leah explained.

"When?"

"They're planning an attack before dusk."

"Where?" Ly questioned.

"They didn't really pinpoint it, but they said they would use underground tunnels."

"The Fatales," Calder reasoned.

"How do you know?" Acacia asked.

"Because that's the only place where they had planned to have passages. When I left, they were creating them, but they were in no way, shape or form ready. I guess they finished them."

"Then, we'll prepare the troops," Adara stated.

"But I think he knows I was there. I think he could sense me," Leah divulged, perturbed.

"But, like you said, it's worth a try. I would rather go and not witness an attack—rather than not go and have the death rate escalate," Ly stated. "Thank you for confiding in us, Leah. And, Calder, since you know where it's located, you'll lead us, but we'll take over from there."

Stunned, Calder froze before speeding forward. From her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Acacia whitening but hardening her resolve.

It was her home.

"Everything will be alright," Leah reassured her.

She nodded, but it didn't seem right.

* * *

Thank you everyone for reading, and special thanks to brankel1 for reviewing! Next chapter will be a very revealing chapter. Next update will be in two days.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24: _Alecto and Adastros_

It was dusk. And the approaching obscurity immediately adhered itself onto their expectant forms, shifting and morphing according to their shapes, welcoming and coaxing, deepening and thickening, encompassing and accosting them when it condensed. Two new figures emerged from the horizon and marched forward, smirking, grinning, threatening.

The elder of the two softened his facial features significantly; his allusive, emerald irises expressed genuine sympathy. They practically shone with sincere sorrow and frustration; they showed his his joys and miseries, which dramatically darkened his swarthy complexion, furrowed his broad eyebrows and creased his forehead. Mirroring his father, he bewitched them with his flourishing innocence before widening his eyes and lighting up his scintillating jade eyes, which falsely teared up. His expression differed from his confident posture—his erect spine, squared shoulders, and tautened, expectant muscles.

Alecto and Adastros.

"We're sorry for trespassing, but this can easily be fixed, Phoenix. We just want to help everyone. Rectify the corruption. Rectify the addictions. Rectify the evil. Let us in," Alecto pleaded, sounding persuasive and benevolent. "Alyona, dearest Aly, you know that tragedy can be prevented; you don't want any more deaths. I don't want any more deaths. No one wants any more deaths. Please, just let us in—and you will not regret it. You will never regret it."

"Leave, Alecto," Phoenix stated, sterling eyed scalding with repressed anger.

"Like you said before, you're trespassing," Alyona started, inflamed. But she conscious of her own movements and expressions, judging by the cool, almost detached glaze in her gaze. "Leave. You're the definition of corruption and evil. You don't plan to rectify; you only plan to destroy, to diminish, to kill."

"I had higher hopes," Alecto divulged before sighing and closing his eyes. "I had hopes that we wouldn't have to resort to violence, but now we'll have to. Just think of the lives!"

"But they don't care, father," Adastros communicated sorrowfully. "They don't care. And neither should we."

The ambiguity of the atmosphere stooped lower and lower until it completely submerged them. It seethed and shrieked, hissed and growled, smoked and burned.

Gwendolyn paled when she heard familiar clamors, followed by masculine commands, grotesque, high-pitched laughter, which thrived on the heart-breaking whimpers coming from a budding child who withered and bled; she wilted—with her own blood showering her mangled frame, with her lips battered and blackened, inflamed and infected. When the thick brume encompassed her, it whispered but screamed and cursed. Gwendolyn remembered her distress—her limp body with her legs slashed and severed and facing opposite directions, with her ribs protruding horrendously from her scrawny, undernourished and underdeveloped body, with her nose bleeding, with her cheeks gaunt but decorated with an array of brutish-looking bruises, with her arms scorching and burning and aching, with her skin peeling and drooping, with her hair shaven, with her knees peeled completely, with one of her eyes closed and bleeding.

She squirmed but stayed silent; she shivered but stayed silent. But her fear evaporated when reassuring fingertips latched themselves to her fingers.

Seraphina shuddered, remembering the torturous times where she grumbled and groused—where she drained and ducked when ejected poison coursed through her veins; she sunk, eyes enlarging with fear, hands trembling frantically, knees buckling, limbs convulsing. She remembered grating her teeth, clenching her stomach, jutting her jaw, and fighting against her restraints. But her eventual exhaustion slowed down her progress. She remembered clawing, pawing but crying and staring at her own blood cascading from her open lacerations.

The tremors won, inundating her to the point where she grieved but prayed. She always prayed and hoped, even though the cackling beings with a glowering gaze tortured her until she eventually crumbled and became a horrid monstrosity that—

Soothing hands touched her knuckles before overturning her hand and reassuringly entangling their fingers together. Sera finally breathed, feeling ready and reassured.

Shadows rapidly disappeared. An effulgence emerged, blighting the darkness until it retreated and returned to the original owners, who smirked and grinned. They flicked their wrists and ordered their subordinates forward. With their eyes flickering with blood-lust, they charged and barreled towards the entrance of the kingdom, which was guarded heavily with mental fortifications and physical barricades.

It had started.

They collided, creating boisterous blusters and cracking clamors that spread throughout the battlefield. Everyone became one indistinguishable blur.

Leah shot forward, but she turned sideways when frenzied barbarians surfaced from the edges of the gloom and whisked her to the opposite side of the battlefield; she shot forward but seethed when she flew back. Her six adversaries circled her and blocked her exit. Squaring her jaw, she skyrocketed and hung above their heads with her palms aggressively gripping branches; she tucked her knees into her stomach before climbing up and attracting their complete attention. Sneering, scowling but simpering, her opponents followed her. Leah escalated before stopping and staring at their clambering forms; she stood and balanced herself, before she rattled the branches and held onto the trunk of the tree. With every jump, she disturbed the bottom part of the tree until the branch beneath her feet plummeted. Her adversaries plunged, shocked by the impact. Sliding down, she trampled on their disoriented heads, delivering the final blow before she left. She trotted forward when murmurs came from the other extremity.

Leah accelerated towards the source, but two opponents punched her, grabbing, pulling, towing, dragging; she jeered and cursed, spitting and sparring and spinning when the couple slammed her down. She tacked her palms above her head and stabilized her previously flailing legs with their knees. One restrained her head, pulling on her roots, yanking on her flesh, slapping her face to the center, where her other adversary broke her nose and bruised her flesh. While he laughed, Leah pulled her legs apart and let them barrel into his back. Simultaneously, she flipped over, tearing the hands from her head with her teeth and pursuing the couple; she grabbed the female first before serrating her throat. Casting her aside, she hunted down the other and, with her teeth, ribboned his neck.

She advanced before she jolted back when antsy fingers forcibly turned her around. Leah faced an epidemic of vivacious varmints who flung themselves forward, eyes blazing with an incurable thirst for blood. Driven, she tackled her adversary and punched his temples; she spurted and serrated her next opponent before killing her. Nose scrunching, she evaded two pairs of hands which zipped toward her neck; she dodged and ducked before side kicking one of their temples and rolling into another competitor who stomped on her chest. She trampled Leah until she flailed but rose. Leah dove forward, sweeping her legs from beneath her form. Toppling over, the two struggled until her two opponents helped their comrade; she quickly steadied herself, bleeding and wheezing but continuing to puff out her chest.

The trio took advantage of her disoriented state; the only male backed her up against one of the trunks and strangulated her. When she withered, he merely cleaved through the side of her face and tightened his hold over her bones. He threatened to shatter them, but she punctured his sides and prodded his ribs until he recoiled. Once he flinched, she groin kicked him, turned him over, and snapped his neck before appearing behind them. She clamped her hands over their pressure points and killed them.

She heard shrill shrieks, threats, gulps, shouts, taunts, and murmurs of repression.

Leah tracked down the source but, when a multitude of unfaltering and unflinching rebels encircled Delia, she rushed forward and joined Delia; she nodded gratefully and mimicked their movements before improvising and leaping up. Delia landed on one and snapped his neck. Leah rushed forward and tackled down three of her adversaries. Strong-minded and willed, she killed them and faced two more opponents, who she crescent kicked and cornered. Leah clawed through their chests, killing themselves. When she glanced back, Delia had taken out the other half—all of whom lay beneath her feet, bleeding, whitening, dying.

From her peripheral vision, four siblings fought together. Budding and blooming with innocence, flourishing and flowering with an essence of vulnerability, the surrounding blood-lusting beasts wandered forward. They stared at them with blood-lusting eyes that glimmered with interest. Their overwhelming, heart-wrenching yearning coaxed them into speeding forward. With their melodic tenors, the men encompassed them before shrinking and shrieking when the trio of sirens choked them. Micah remained behind, killing the ones straying toward the outskirts before moving inward and quickly killing them.

Overclouded with darkness, Micah ducked the onslaught, which moved erratically, frantically, desperately. Micah darted forward before pouncing on his heels and directing himself at the fortified human barrier. When an upsurge occurred, he side kicked their temples, crescent kicked, swooped low, rose, punched repeatedly, ducked, dodged, and then lurched forward, pinning down several men and women before using his own allure and convincing them to fight each other. He seized his nearest adversary, grabbed his collar, twisted him to the other side, and snapped his neck. Micah discarded him and moved into his revengeful mate, who sped forward and practically salivated at the sight of his exposed neck; he grabbed her by her shoulders when she launched herself and twisted her spine. He condensed the atmosphere, stare becoming stormy and turbulent as he ruptured their chests and strangled them.

Suddenly, he sailed back and slammed into several trees.

Lailah scurried towards him, but beasts hurled themselves forward. She smirked heinously when she killed them; she rose, thickening and compacting the atmosphere before snapping their necks. When two crawled forward, she punched their guts and pinned them down. But they thrust her back and punched her. She barreled into them and fractured their necks before flitting towards her rejuvenated brother.

Thickening the atmosphere, Seraphina charged forward and avoided perilous blows flying in her direction; she circled and ensnared new victims before suddenly stopping. While conjuring strange visions, she froze them, causing them to suddenly plunge to the ground and scratch their chests until they landed unconscious. Charmeine trampled them, ending their lives.

When another flock swarmed them, the sisters persisted; the youngest latched herself onto swaying branches, lifted her legs up and then down before swinging her feet forward and locking her ankles around their throats; she strangled them and disentangled herself from their corpses before assisting her older sister who executed three more. Respiring shallowly, she swept their feet and welcomed them forward before escaping and watching them clang together. Thinking quickly, Sera applied pressure over their points before executing them.

Charmeine landed beside her and grabbed her hand before reuniting with her other siblings, who fought viciously but were swarmed.

Another force attacked the horde of rebels. It spanned across the field before exposing three regal immortals with hardened, darkened irises; they traipsed forward, killing and torturing immortals with their gloom. It brushed their ankles and imprinted itself onto their flesh, killing them brutally but quickly. Human shapes emerged from the obscurity, searching, scanning and finding new victims which charged forward but quickly retreated when their skin blackened, when their eyes teared up, when their limbs convulsed uncontrollably, when their minds became inundated by the cloud of darkness, which somehow weaved its way into their heads. They flailed but disintegrated when the force shattered their bones.

The trio helped the struggling siblings. When their victims developed new defenses, Cara immediately fluttered forward and summoned the remaining light, which grabbed unwilling victims. They became blinded, invalidated, vulnerable; they died quickly, eye sockets exposed.

Another tumultuous wave of immortals materialized from the depths of the woods and separated Alistair, Damien and Radley.

Alistair rocketed. His opponents flung themselves forward. Breathing harshly, he launched himself against five immortals, who fell back and let him lacerate their throats. He freighted before barreling forward and repeatedly punching, kicking, and killing.

Damien was inundated, so Radley rushed towards him. Alistair struck from behind, while Radley charged sideways, and Damien assailed them from the front. But they were overwhelmed and wheezed. Still, Radley kicked and clouted them before backtracking three paces when two immortals walloped him twice. He put his arms in front of his face before launching himself forward. Radley flew back when three immortals gripped him from behind. His mouth extended grotesquely when their fingers grappled the insides, tearing and breaking, marking and imprinting their nails onto his cheeks; their nails lacerated him further, starting from his throbbing temples and ending at his chest. Rapidly, his opponents surrounded him, rooting him to the ground before popping his bones; he grumbled and groaned but spat in their faces, refusing to surrender. Suddenly, the arms encompassing him vanished. Released, he withered but regained his strength when Damien fixed his dislocated joints. Thankfully, he dipped his head and zoomed forward.

Damien pushed the brutes back and hit their pressure points. He killed and reunited with his comrades. They fought side-to-side and back-to-back.

A few meters away, Aristo encompassed an entire area with his ability; he summoned unwanted memories that caused them to stagger. Their eyes glistened with pitiful tears that caused pathetic whimpers to escape from their lips. They fell to their knees and cried. Aristo conjured frightening visions that made them ram into their companions and commit suicide; he created unbearable, searing pain which made them scratch their veins and bleed out. Focusing, he parted the sea of creatures; he paralyzed half with fright and the other half with his own gift. Quickly, he killed them and sought more victims.

Beside him, Admes protected him from upcoming predators who lurked behind the obscurity; he successfully pummeled and pounded them before speeding forward and entrapping them. He tore through their chests and necks before flinging them aside.

Several feet away from them, Artemisia accessed their minds and controlled their impulses by causing them to wander backward, face each other and strangle each other. Horrified, they gaped, refusing, struggling, but she quickly forced them to kill each other. Her adversaries immediately turned on each other and killed.

When some resisted her abilities, they chased her. Quickly, she climbed trees and camouflaged herself.

After calculating the amount of feet between herself and the surrounding rebels, she threw herself onto her nearest opponent, who sneered and pawed her. Artemis entangled her legs around his neck. His hands immediately flew to her neck, while his comrades latched themselves to her legs and ankles. He strangled her, but she tightened her grip around his neck and snapped it.

She glared and directed her own essence into their own, causing them to plunge and land on their companions.

Some clambered forward and grasped her flailing legs, but she smacked their faces and jeered. They scratched her hands, making her loosen her grip. Before they could latch themselves onto her ankles, she dismounted but yelled when one landed on her and threw her against the ground. Artemis struggled against their eager, blood-lusting hands and cursed when they kicked her repeatedly. Forcefully, she made herself vulnerable and then struck their faces when they neared her. Artemis scratched their faces, placed her thumbs inside their eyes and pushed them back; she lacerated them and killed them. Someone ran towards her.

She fought vigilantly.

Leah hunted down the source, finding horrendously mesmerizing visions of haunted, wounded children with gasping, gaping mouths, with their eyes wide open and rolled to the back of their heads; the children died, becoming replaced by griping, grousing, grumbling warriors who rapidly perished.

She froze.

Suddenly, a rebel restrained her physically, while the other anchored her mentally. She heard exclamations of faith and tenderness, murmurs of affection, declarations of eternal love, vows, and transformed sobs, followed by harsh, unmeaning words and screams.

But she blighted them.

She sneered and spat, infuriating him.

He inflicted mental pain, but she refused to scream.

Abruptly, his mental hold vanished; he bellowed before choking on his own saliva and vital liquids, while she somersaulted and kicked her adversary's visage. She maimed him, vexed by his actions before executing him. Leah nodded gratefully at Acacia, who rattled her approaching opponent; she watched as he cowered. Acacia pounded him, and he quickly died.

Simultaneously, the two glanced at the lot.

While inducing extreme vertigo upon his adversaries, Acastus trekked along the forest; he deflected perilous blows flying in his direction by quickly sidestepping, ducking extra pairs of arms, and then quickly skyrocketing. Instantly, he punched their temples before encountering three stalwart competitors who walked forwards. Their salient teeth were bared, while their pupils dilated with animalistic desire. But he easily evaded their attempts and collided with his adversaries; he slowed down their progress with his abilities and serrated their bare necks. Blood stained his flesh; blood tainted his clothes; blood polluted his soul.

Instantly, he was entrapped.

Growling, howling, scowling, he groin kicked his adversary, who, thinking quickly, separated his lower half from his reach; he rapidly and forcibly turned him around until he faced him directly. Acastus' body tautened; his fists tightened; his eyes narrowed.

It was Adastros.

Acacia froze, astonished.

And Adastros walloped him until he fractured his nose. Acastus used his abilities, but he merely grinned and left him a bloody heap on the ground; he crawled back, but Adastros overwhelmed him with his obscurity.

Acacia instantly barreled forward. Leah followed but another rebel harassed her and, using her abilities, sent her to the ground; she conjured a heavy shield which forced her onto her back. Quickly, her opponent kicked her her ribs and her throat. Leah vomited, choking on her saliva. Her adversary kicked her head, disorienting her. But she suddenly stopped and left her physical shield over her flailing body.

Sera withered and hyperventilated when her adversaries circled her limp form; she bled until her head whirled and her face whitened. Detained, Micah roared, shouting threats and warnings that mattered little to the Fallen. They strangled her. Restrained, her sisters cursed and twisted wildly, but the Fallen merely serrated her. They started from her chest and ended at her hips.

Artemisia snaked forward until she was ensnared and stretched forcibly. Her arms expanded; her midsection elongated; her legs nearly wrenched apart. Acastus darted forward, determined, but his disastrous wounds prevented him from speeding forward and avoiding wandering hands; he damned them to Hell before groin kicking them and then twisting out of their grasps—only to fall right into their ploy.

Nico strangled those who neared his companions. He zoomed forward when Delia was inundated by a swarm of varmints, but he rapidly became incapacitated; he roared with outrage when they trapped his mate.

Admes and Aristo wandered toward their mates, but they slunk into the shadows, where the majority of their adversaries shrouded themselves. They were trapped.

Restrained, Cara and Drakon floundered and tried to break their barriers, but they persisted. Similarly, Gwendolyn and Alcander trudged forwards but were soon oppressed by the rebel forces.

Almost in slow motion, Acacia leapt forward and tackled down Adastros. She struck him twice before sprinting towards her brother and directing herself in front of him; he yelled at her and told her to leave, but she refused—even when he sauntered forward, even when he cockily analyzed her, even when he grabbed an approaching frame and snapped his victim's neck in front of her, even when their eyes met.

He simply walked forward and smeared the blood of the innocent across her cheekbones.

And he admired his work.

And tried to defile her further.

When he ensnared her, she slackened her muscles and enlivened him. Everything became silent. Everyone became silent. But suddenly, she elbowed his face and groin kicked him repeatedly. Groaning, he buckled. Acacia kicked his ribs and, after hearing two shatter, she gripped the roots of his hair and pulled him down; she crashed her fists against his temples and dislocated his jaw. His hands flew forward, but she quickly evaded his hold and fractured his collarbones, making his bones protrude and stick towards his throat. Frantically, he surged forward and knocked her back, but she tackled him; he crescent kicked her head and shoulders, but she collided with him.

Somehow, she lacerated his chest, and he serrated her face. Acacia grabbed his neck and strangled him. He pierced through her stomach, but she continued—even when his fingers threatened to push them out of their sockets. She continued, watching as his face whitened dangerously, watching as he flailed, watching as he perished; she continued, wishing for his death as she strangled him further.

But she flew back and landed beside her brother.

Her eyes widened when she saw hazel irises overpowered with animalistic urges; she barreled forward, chestnut tendrils ruffled, and seized her collar. She pushed Acacia against the surrounding trunks before kicking her brother.

"Leila, it's Acacia," she murmured, hesitant to combat her.

Malicious recognition sparked in her eyes.

Her complexion remained flawless—smooth and swarthy; her tendrils remained straight but tousled and ruffled; her posture remained erect and perfect, but her aurora had changed. It had darkened significantly.

Acacia slipped in between her fingers, preventing herself from ever becoming incapacitated. Snarling, she howled, commanding instant attention.

Another tide washed up. But it included their fallen comrades.

"I've been saving my son's gift for a while now, and, as a present to thank you all for your contribution to this war, I give you back your precious soldiers," Alecto proclaimed pleasantly.

"But, Leila, of course, is special," Adastros added, features softening ironically. "She's not like the other ones, and I have to thank Calder for that. He gave me her body. Unlike the others, she's actually alive."

And chaos emerged.

Cackling with malignant power, Adastros monitored Acacia and winked; he became unidentifiable as he slipped into the crowd.

Using the surprising turn of events to her advantage, Leah penetrated the physical barrier and quickly kicked her midsection; she battered her face, crescent kicked her upcoming attacker, pinned her to the tree she had faced, and smashed her against it until her body became limp. When her body slid down, death claimed her.

Screeching with fury, her companion walked forward but quickly retreated; he sidestepped her attack and backtracked four paces before diving forward onto his knees and sweeping back her own legs. Momentarily astonished, she toppled over but rapidly rose. She encircled him and stared at him with animalistic calculation, while he followed her movements and tiptoed forward. He retracted three paces and flung himself up. He rattled her back-and-forth until her head banged and her cheeks whitened. Suddenly, he stopped and fractured his nose. She pounced on him, dislocating his shoulder blades and impaling his midsection. She brutishly stepped on his head but stopped when she heard silence.

When she saw the flock of rebels dispatching, she hastened forward but two of her adversaries tried to paralyze her. Leah twisted her body until she grabbed her; she squeezed and squeezed, marking her pallid flesh before clamping her nails into her skin. Without pausing, she side kicked her temples and returned to her other opponent, who she kicked viciously and repeatedly; she kicked her and threw her back two paces. Leah threw her entire weight forward and elbowed her face. The two fell to the ground, heads on opposite ends. Taking advantage, Leah head-locked her with her legs, squeezing and squeezing until she stopped breathing.

Thinking quickly, Drakon, Gwendolyn and Alcander encompassed the fleeing group with their abilities. Aided by Phoenix, they intensified the darkness and tortured the rebels to the point of insanity—to the point where they decayed mentally and eventually physically.

The dead rushed forward, propelling their legs faster and faster until their breaths became billowing pants. They launched themselves forward. With their salient teeth exposed, they tore apart flesh and fractured available bones; they shattered ribcages, broke their collarbones, shattered their kneecaps, flicked their wrists to the side and greedily wandered toward their necks, which were clogged with pure, unadulterated terror. Deliberately but desperately, they protected their necks and prodded them; they wandered forward before circling them and piercing through their newly regenerated flesh. Their fallen comrades shrilled before decaying.

But the Fallen pushed them back. And their defenses strengthened.

Their companions circled the barbarians. Alyona centered herself in front of the ardent creatures who shrilled and launched themselves forward. Instantly, she created great flames that immediately glued themselves to their tremulous forms; they bellowed and bewailed, yelling horrible words that made her harden her heart and soul.

Eventually, their cries diminished.

But new, hateful screams came from their flailing captive, who crescent kicked but miscalculated. Acacia side kicked her and tackled her to the ground; she clamped her fingers around her pressure points before watching her figure slump over.

"She's unconscious now," Acacia declared, perturbed.

Silence reigned.

"It's a ploy," Leah stated reluctantly while staring at Drakon's hardened features and Calder's widened eyes. "He specified that the other were dead but that she was alive for a reason. She definitely thinks we're the enemies rather than the other way around."

"It's risky," Carabelle affirmed, breathing shallowly. Alcander wrapped his arms around her waist.

"But it's a risk we're willing to take. Right?" Acastus inquired curiously.

"Right," Leah stated.

"Of course," Alyona intoned, followed by her husband.

Everyone chorused, agreeing completely while Drakon and Calder mindlessly nodded their consent.

"Now let's go home."

* * *

She looked angelic. Her skin had been cleansed thoroughly; her previously tousled tendrils had been tamed and straightened; her tautened muscles had been soothed, healed and rejuvenated.

Calder remained beside her and admired her softened features. Instinctively, he moved forwards and glanced at Drakon and Cara. They held her hands. "When she wakes up—"

"She'll definitely be defensive," Drakon finished. "But for now, we should just enjoy her presence."

"Because we'll need to extract information from her, right?" Calder inquired, earning silent affirmations.

For now, they cherished her, but they knew that her fate was inevitable.

* * *

Driven, she walked through the corridors and dipped her head at the passing guards, who respectively admired her from the distance; she walked through the passageway before walking into the garden.

When she saw the lone figure sitting alone, she wandered forward. Together, they stared at the waxing moon.

"It's getting really close to being a full moon."

"It's not even a half moon yet," Leah verbalized, perplexed.

"It's not halfway there at first. It definitely doesn't look like it, but it is. It'll be more visible tomorrow but, right now, there's clouds obstructing our view from the moon. Not everything is what it looks like," Acacia said before pointing. "Look! The clouds are right there."

And they were. When they moved, the half moon scintillated splendidly.

"You were right. It's beautiful."

"It is, isn't it?"

Leah hummed.

"I know that everyone already said this to you one way or another, but you were amazing today. You really were. For a moment, everything stopped and, when you started punching him, everything started moving again. We were filled with hope."

Acacia cracked a self-conscious smile.

"I didn't know if I could do it. I know that I was supposed to surrender. I could tell. But I didn't want to. I knew I could do it when he tried to defile me. I knew he didn't care much for me. And I knew I didn't care much for him either. I just wanted him to disappear. And I still do. The world would be much better without him," Acacia revealed. "I may be his mate, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to surrender myself to him. I won't."

"I know you won't. I've always had faith in you. Everyone has always had faith in you."

"Thank you, Leah," Acacia uttered gratefully. "We should probably go inside. It's getting cooler."

"Yeah," Leah said thoughtfully. "Let's go."

* * *

Thank you for reading, guys!

I hope you liked this chapter and the slight twist.

Update will be in two days!


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25: _Beauty of the Mind_

The darkness submerged her tautened but tremulous frame. It devouring her, swarmed her, inundated her, entrapped her. But she skyrocketed. And the ambiguity of the atmosphere descended, momentarily hovering above her shoulders before swooping down and coiling around her body. Scowling, she lurched forwards and then sideways. Calculating quickly, she realized she had seconds before her warden barged through the entrance.

Leila paced around her confinement, ensuring that her back faced the door. When he entered, she suddenly faced them and elbowed her warden before groin kicking him and exiting. Leila hastened down the halls before encountering two stalwart men who blocked her way; she instantly jolted sideways when their arms flew in her direction, but she dove underneath their legs and hurried down the hall. When they neared her, she abruptly skidded, slowed, slid down, and groin kicked one; she punched him twice before side kicking his partner, who held her bleeding nose. Leila wandered forward and crescent kicked her, hitting the top of her head before wounding her shoulder. She swiftly prodded her before gaining momentum and roundhouse kicking her; she repeatedly jabbed her, but her opponent easily deflected her blows and grabbed her fists. Her opponent turned her around and held her against her chest. With vigor, her combatant tightened her hold over her neck, squeezing to the point where she pawed her hands; she slumped over, eyes rolling back, skin becoming ghastly and pasty. Leila heaved and nearly retched, leaning heavily over her arms until she loosened her grip and righted her.

Suddenly, she swept her legs back and made both of them fall on opposite sides; she wrapped her legs around her neck, strangling her until she fell unconscious. Zealously, she squeezed and squeezed her throat, indulging herself further by nearing her windpipe and—

Suddenly, she flew back.

Her partner rose and defended his comrade with fierce loyalty, which caused her eyes to kindle with resentment and frustration. His eyes blazed with determination. She grinned, teeth bared, nails outstretched, muscles tensed. While cackling, she spat on his companion before dropping, diving, and ascending. He propelled himself forward, colliding with her. But she grabbed his throat with her claws before overturning him and grappling onto his hands. She forced them back and put her knees on his backside. Leila covered his mouth before banging his head against the ground and revelling in the muffled groans coming from his lips.

When he blacked out, she teased and nicked his neck, longing to tear out his throat and hang his body. But she heard the sounds of nearby footsteps, of brewing conversations, of sudden exclamations, hushed whispers, sneezing, coughing, swallowing and gulping. After glancing at her fallen prey, she towered above him and scurried through the halls. She weaved through the passageways before slinking into the shadows and wandering towards the exit. It remained in constant vigilance.

Suddenly, she growled and and tackled her adversary. He spun and pinned her arms above her head, but she propelled her legs up and kicked his jaw. It popped. And his face contorted with pain. Seizing the opportunity, she used her entire weight and pushed him back. He toppled over, and she obtained immediate control of the situation. She slapped him until blood seeped from his wounds—until blood spilled from the corners of his mouth. Preparing herself for the final blow, she reeled back her fist and—

Her fist stopped involuntarily.

She withdrew, huffing angrily. But she barreled back and poked the sinewy individual who challenged her; she thrust him against the wall and smiled broadly when his body dented it. Leila tacked down his arms, kneed his groin, and serrated his chest. With her salient teeth, she bit his flesh and sliced through his skin. She thrived on the spasms overtaking his frame, on the agony and misery sweeping over his features, on the sense of betrayal swarming his orbs. He shouted, begging for mercy and pleading with her to snap out of her trance.

But she wasn't in a trance.

Smirking wickedly, she clawed through his chest. But she stopped, ears perking, hands dripping with blood, lips spewing the blood of her prey. With blood smeared over her face, she departed but encountered another flock of raving barbarians. They rushed forward. Glowering, with adrenaline coursing through her, she zoomed forward and impulsively hurled herself from the railing. Leila trekked away from their central headquarters. But another swarm pursued her. Sirens sounded. Soldiers darted forward. She hissed and cursed under her breath before tiptoeing further and further away from their expectant frames. But when she caught a glimpse of Alistair meandering through the crowd, she scrambled from his line of sight. After sensing their urgency, she immediately bounded towards the opposite section.

Abruptly, she halted. From her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a hidden alcove, so she sped toward it and barreled through the entrance. With stopping, she projected herself forward, but two stalwart men confined her. One latched himself onto her midsection while tightening his hold on the curve of her waist and moving up until he grasped her shoulders and hefted her up. His partner grabbed her legs and grunted when she kicked her jaw and fractured her nose. Bleeding, she tightened her grip on her ankles before towing her towards the entrance of the passage. Leila spat but chortled with malicious laughter when her saliva landed inside his cornea. He merely sighed, infuriating her to the point where she quickly somersaulted and landed in front of him. Forcibly, she turned him around until he faced his partner, who zoomed forward, skyrocketed but retreated when she accidentally barreled into her companion. Snarling, she cussed and wandered forward before using her speed to her advantage and yanking him from her grasp. His shoulders popped; his veins pulsated; his blood pounded.

"Leila, you're making a mistake!"

"My only mistake was trusting all of you."

And she nearly snapped his neck. But cackling, she released him but not before flinging him aside and trampling on his chest; she turned and struck her other opponent, who momentarily wavered from the force but meandered forward. Quickly, without remorse, she sidekicked her temples and chuckled to herself when she heard pathetic grouses and pitiful moans.

From her peripheral vision, she perceived the umbra, which steadily followed her. They gained speed and strength when their shapes became distinguishable and more dimensional. Their hands blurred around the edges before solidifying and extending towards her. She instantly swooped but sprouted and sprinted away from their reach. But soldiers swarmed her.

Without stopping, she hastened forward before impulsively bouncing on her heels and somersaulting. When she landed behind them, she raced away but not before guffawing at their shocked expressions. Heart ramming against her chest, she continued bustling away from the flock accelerating in her direction. Freighting, she rushed towards the gate. Leila unnerved the soldiers stationed there, but she roughly scurried in the opposite direction; she concealed herself with the foliage when she zigzagged through the forest. Without pausing, she skipped over the staircase but tripped over the vines that entangled themselves further into her jittery feet. Snarling, she tore through them but not before scratching and impaling herself with the thorns. Without any care, she lurched forwards, elongating her lacerations and barreling into the wildlife, which deliberately flocked her. She swatted and killed the bothersome butterflies before laughing at the absurdity.

"Leila, go back."

"Well, isn't it the three musketeers?" Leila taunted before dramatically softening her facial features and rounding her eyes. "I thought you three decided to go separate ways?"

"We did for a while," Radley responded.

"Why? You three always stuck together like glue."

"We had different responsibilities, as you know," Damien intoned.

"You know everything about us, Leila," Alistair started while meandering forward. "Absolutely everything. And we know a thing or two about you, too."

"Just like how you're trying to distract us," Radley pointed out.

"You're clever, Leila, and you know you can't escape," Damien orated.

"I thought you knew a thing or two about me?" she inquired rhetorically. "If you did, then you would know that I don't give up easily."

She galloped forward before barging into Damien; she overturned him, but he quickly flipped her over and tackled her. Leila dislocated his jaw before slamming her body against his; she bent over his flailing form before serrating his chest and barreling back when Radley helped him. She sidekicked Radley, who easily deflected her blow and marched forward with his hands shielding his face. Gnarling, she quickly descended, swept her legs back and punched Alistair twice. Damien neared her, but she crescent kicked him two seconds before he pinned her down; she tacked his arms above his head before purposefully rising and stomping on his throat. He heaved and retched, while she jeered and chortled.

But she flew back and crashed against several trees.

Radley wrapped his arms around her neck, twisting and turning her body in opposite directions. But he made sure that he didn't hurt her seriously. Using his fear to her advantage, she groin kicked Alistair and watched with pleasure as he plunged and held himself. Radley tightened his hold over her neck, but she simply grabbed his thumb and pushed it back until it popped. His hold loosened, allowing her to press her chin against his hands and bend her head down. Without any qualms, she bit down on his hands and serrated him. Blood pooled into her mouth. And she savored it.

Groaning, he unleashed her. She dodged Damien by ducking and then zooming forward, faking her attack and then dropping. Fingers outstretched, she threw her entire weight onto Damien's shoulders; she chortled with sheer pleasure when she cleaved through the side of his face. He floundered but refused to scream. Sighing, she knocked him unconscious and pouted when her prey blacked out with ease.

"And I thought you three were great warriors. I guess I was wrongness."

Radley walloped her before hauling her by her shoulders to the opposite end. For a believable effect, she withered against his hold, twisting and turning and tossing until her head collided with the tree trunks. He jostled her before banging her head once more and trying to strike her again. But she kicked his stomach and battered his face, forcing him to release her. She crescent kicked her upcoming combatant. Leila tackled his legs to the ground and indented the center of his head with a rock. Blood showered her. And she revelled in it. He blacked out, but she reeled back her fists for the final, perilous blow.

But she heard detonations. Shouting, Radley walked forward but, after calculating her movements, retreated. Suddenly, he darted forward and quickly sidestepped her assault before retracting two paces and sliding forward on his knees. He tackled her to the ground. She fell but walloped him and ascended. He rose and circled her. Mimicking him, she stepped forward before catapulting herself forward and landing on top of him; she whipped him before whipping him back-and-forth until his head bobbled dangerously. She elbowed his face, breaking his nose and threatening to rupture his lungs. His breaths billowed unevenly; his bosom heaved erratically; his eyelids drooped perilously.

"They're o-out there, w-watching y-you," he mustered with difficulty.

"Then I gave them a great show."

"Leila, please stop," he supplicated while rasping and wheezing.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," she answered with sincerity.

And she knocked him unconscious.

Leila lurched forward and jolted sideways when their frames materialized from the obscurity; she growled, eyes glistening and glimmering, pupils enlarging and dilating, fists clenching and unclenching.

She bolted.

"Leila, stop!" Artemisia shrieked; her tenor fluctuated between urgency and determination.

She continued, moving faster and faster when she heard arrows whooshing beside her.

"Leila, please!"

But she merely snorted when two bows etched themselves onto her burning calves.

"Leila, I don't want to do this, but you're making me do it."

Instinctively, she fortified her mental barriers, structuring layers upon layers before assaulting the force exerting pressure on her defenses; she forced her barriers forward, making the force retreat until she darkened her essence and contaminated the opposing force. Artemisia screeched, hands flying to her pulsating head, fingers brushing and skimming her throbbing, burning temples. She vomited.

Acastus landed beside her, striking her twice and fracturing her nose; she backtracked, prowling, growling, scowling. He neared her and crescent kicked her, hitting her head first and then her shoulders. Filled with adrenaline, he squatted and then swept her legs from underneath her; he mounted her before clobbering her repeatedly and then squeezing her ankles until they popped. Involuntarily, she shrieked. And he fractured her collarbones, causing them to impale her chest and wander towards her neck. Throat clogged, she desperately, frantically, fervently drilled her fingers into his eyes, making him retract slightly. Using his gift, her head lulled to the side; she grew lethargic, but she barged through and overturned him. Leila bashed his head repeatedly.

When his comrades neared her, she rose but plummeted when he attached himself to her ankles; she trampled on his face before limping towards the bridge. Hurriedly, she traipsed through but centered herself when both sides were overwhelmed by huntsmen. She threatened them and crouched lowly. Leila hissed and screeched, cackled and chortled with malignant power.

But she stopped and righted herself when another familiar figure wandered forward, features contorted with misery and agony and hope.

"Leila, please come back," Drakon pleaded, genuinely concerned.

She neared him, features softening with sweet remembrance.

"Drakon, you've grown," she started, beaming incredulously. "I didn't think that was possible. You were already so tall and now you're taller. It's only been a year, too."

"Leila, come back. Please come back."

"And you look older, too," she continued while scrutinizing him. "You always had such a pretty face—really boyish and young. But now—well, you look like a man now. A full grown man."

She tiptoed forward before rising on her toes and brushing his pronounced cheekbones.

"You've changed."

"Leila, please—"

"And so have I."

She beamed widely, but her lips elongated grotesquely. Leila blighted their faith when her aurora darkened significantly, cracking and snapping with malignant power. He became ghastly, pasty and sweaty as he wobbled forward, hands raised, chest heaving, breaths billowing, heart palpitating.

"Leila, please don't make me do this," he supplicated. "I really don't want to do this."

"Always so weak," she murmured thoughtfully. "Always so weak, Drakon. How can you justify your actions? How can you ask me to do this for you? How can you beg me to stay? You can't. You don't have the right!"

"Leila, I don't—"

"You let them torture me; you let them kill me! You preferred to save yourself; you preferred to make a pact with them to save your own flesh. But your luck turned over. Adastros saw potential in me and revived me, while you let me rot," she interjected, huffing with anger.

"Leila, that's not what—"

"Now move!" she explained; her voice became extremely persuasive and coaxing.

But he didn't. He resisted.

"I'm sorry," he whispered before advancing.

He ambulated forward, but she rapidly slid underneath his legs and crept behind him; he promptly swiveled and pounded her, while she wheezed and walloped him thrice. Anticipating her next movement, he swung his fists but simultaneously reeled back his legs and kicked her midsection with a force that knocked her to the ground. Eyes kindling with misery, he squatted and inspected her limp form, but he instantly backtracked when she nicked his throat and launched herself forward.

"Lesson number one: when your opponent is on the ground, you kick them until they can't move."

She strangled him and clamped her hands over his jugular. His hands bent his her wrists back, but she instantly kneed his groin, fractured his ribs, and knocked him unconscious.

"Now move," she commanded.

Their pupils broadened; their stares whitened and bleared over; their heart rates slackened and slowed; their breaths became soft and slow but steady.

Chirping and whistling, she parted the sea of beasts. Her serene melody strengthened and intensified, causing her to wander towards the outskirts of the kingdom. She separated the guards stationed there and exited.

With her pride swelling, she ambulated towards the center of the woods and tentatively touched the Tree of Life, which instantly fixed her fractured bones, whitened her discolorations, evaporated her bruises, repaired her sluggishness and bleariness, and righted her heart rate.

A scintillating radiance emerged from the obscurity.

"Leila," Carabelle stated evenly.

"Darling sister," Leila responded while smiling. "You look positively radiant."

"Leila, we lived together for years as sisters. This is your last chance. Please come back. We miss you; we need you," she supplicated.

"You need me because I was your number one weapon."

"Leila, you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly now. My eyes have been opened."

"They've been closed—blinded."

But she merely beamed.

"Opened."

And she struck.

But Cara whizzed forward, strengthening the intensity of her luminosity and expelling the effulgence. Instantly, her body wilted and weathered; her bosom heaved; her back arched; her mouth extended; her hands trembled; her eyes reddened. She shrieked, scratching the area around her eyes before becoming limp. The luminosity faded before ceasing and vanishing.

Carabelle cautiously stepped forward and carried her. Without any aversions, she punched Carabelle's throat and temples; she bobbled and dropped her, tripping but kicking her when she neared her. Leila hurriedly walloped her until she blacked out.

Gulping, she decamped and purposefully made fake trails.

Shrill hoots suffused with the sound of distressed footsteps. Leila rocketed when susurrations derived from the land beyond her reach. After hushing her spasmodic breaths, she impatiently waited for her adversaries. When she caught a glimpse of Aristo and Admes stationed above her, she departed but stopped.

She fought with herself when Aristo prodded her mental barriers. His darkened essence fought vigilantly with hers, attempting to pervade her defenses. He managed to plod through and notice that the surface of her memories had been contaminated. The visions invigorated her. Breaking through, she backed his essence into the corner before throwing him from her mind. She pounded him before launching herself at Admes, who detached himself from her; she backtracked and freighted before seizing and entrapping Aristo, who squirmed in her hold. She loosened her grip, allowing him to extract himself from her. But Leila eagerly grabbed him when Admes neared her. Clobbered, Aristo wavered but grabbed her by her throat. She groin kicked him and then punched his ribs until he vomited. When Admes catapulted himself forward, she pressed his pressure points and watched when his body slumped over.

Another squad descended from their hideouts before accelerating toward her and encircling her. Unnerved, she deflected the immortals who had dissimulated with the land; she nimbly eluded the outskirts of the Dark Forest, but she wrestled with the umbrage. The darkness advanced, cackling before hissing and snaking around her ankles.

Gwendolyn and Alcander materialized.

And she merely applauded them.

"Congratulations on your dramatic entrance."

They simply surveyed her.

"Where are your manners? You're supposed to say thank you."

Silence reigned.

"Not in the mood? Well, I guess I'll just hurry it along."

Leila dashed forward. Gwendolyn ambulated forward, fingers uncoiled and hands unclenched. Her eyes blazed with an emotion she could not easily decipher. Determined, Leila rotated once more and tackled Alcander, who punched her twice before crescent kicking her, striking the top of her head and impaling her midsection. She used her entire weight to tackle him to the ground and clamp her hands over his temples; she pressed and pressed, but he merely punched her until she flew back. Gwendolyn kicked her face and stomped on her ankles. When Alcander's hands zipped toward her neck, she ducked and dodged but landed beside Gwendolyn. She detained her.

Without stopping, she twisted roughly until she barged through her barriers and wheeled herself upright; she walloped Alcander, overturned Gwendolyn and trampled her further and further until she spat blood. Deliberately, Alcander zoomed forward, freighted, bounded back, and then dove forward. She swept her legs from beneath her form. Toppling over, the two wrestled until she quickly steadied herself, bleeding and wheezing but continuing to barrel forward. She crescent kicked Alcander before spinning around and tapping Gwendolyn, who pummeled her; she side kicked her temples and then hit her ribs to the point where her breaths became shallower.

Infuriated, Alcander pursued her until she somersaulted, somersaulted and landed behind him. She throttled him before pressing his pressure points and sprinting away from the noises that issued from behind her.

The branches quaked. With adrenaline helping her, she whisked forward, sidestepped their traps, and impulsively surged toward the outskirts of the Dark Forest. But they pursued her.

Ebbing with determination, she soared and taunted her adversaries, who quickly followed her lead with practiced precision; she calculated the distance between herself and her enemies—the amount of feet between herself and the ground—before stopping and skidding back. She hurriedly plunged and landed in between her opponent's legs before prodding her ankles and sweeping her feet from beneath her. Growling with resentment, she grappled the roots of her hair and placed her knees on her midsection. Quickly, she seized her unconscious form and used her as a human shield.

Silently, she threatened them—warned them against nearing her. But they moved forward anyway.

Annoyed, she dropped her adversary and spun on her heels. When her opponents lurched forward, she quickly put her opponent's body in front of herself; she reveled in the agony sweeping over her face, contorting her hardened features grotesquely and morphing her entire physique. She fell and wilted.

Detonating, three huntsmen assailed her. Without cowering, she intertwined her muscular legs around his neck and wrestled with him to the point where his previously occupied hands flew to his neck. The other two walked forward, extracting her from his throat. Rotating, she clamped her hands around their pressure points and grinned broadly when their frames descended.

Quickly, she climbed the surrounding trees; she shuffled up, but she miscalculated and let two more of her adversaries attach themselves onto her ankles and pull her down; she twisted and tossed, screaming and shouting curses before kicking with frustration. But she ultimately relaxed her muscles and fell. The whoosh reawakened her and fooled the soldiers into believing she had fallen unconscious. Leila slashed their faces, threatening to mutilate them and scratch out their eyes. Instantly, they scaled the trunks, relying on their instincts and expertise to guide them up. They launched as one formation, capturing her off guard. Thinking quickly, she soared up and harmonized.

Instantly, they plunged.

And she dismounted.

Suddenly, she was ensnared.

Growling, she sibilated, nose scrunching with immediate distaste, nostrils flaring with resentment, eyes narrowing with hatred.

"Repeating history, Calder?" she questioned venomously.

He recoiled. And she took advantage.

When she strengthened her tenor, he rashly tightened his hold over her tautened limbs; he transported himself closer and closer, constraining her but staring at her with agony. Gulping, he called for help, but his words faded. With her oversized bottom lip, which instinctively pouted when she chirped, with her enlarged irises, with her grimy and expectant frame, he vanquished his demons and released her. His eyes were glazed over, and his mouth was set straight.

For a moment, she simply riveted him, lips puckered and eyes narrowed with unadulterated hatred.

Without remorse, she groin kicked him before walloping and battering him brutally; she spilled his blood and showered in it. Leila lacerated his chest, shattered his collarbones, fractured his kneecaps, and nicked his throat. She scoffed when she faced Leah.

Leah accelerated toward her, but she rapidly besieged her; she sneered and shouted, storming and sparring and striking when she forced her down. After tackling her, she put her knees over her midsection and tacked down her palms. Quickly, she yanked out her hair and banged her head against the ground; she slapped her repeatedly, bruising her flesh. Faking compliance, she slackened her muscles before she forced her stomach up and flipped her over. Without any care, Leah clouted the side of her head until she extended her nails and serrated the flesh on her neck; she lacerated her until she finally stopped flailing.

When her eyes became inflamed, she punched her until her head bobbled and her respiration became deeper. Her eyelids fluttered; her heart slowed; her body weakened.

"I'm sorry, but it was necessary," Leah apologized.

"Because e-everyone w-was t-too w-weak," she stammered, understanding.

"Because everyone else knows you and loves you. And I don't know you. It's easier to hurt someone you don't know," Leah divulged, making her scoff.

"It's e-easier a-actually, especially w-when t-they're t-traitors."

Delia, accompanied by Acacia and Nico, projected herself forward. She grimaced when she surveyed her.

Suddenly, the vicinity transformed, condensing and whitening, becoming empty and devoid of any trees. The fallen soldiers circled her—devoid of any bruises or wounds; they simply surveyed her, grimacing and shaking their heads.

"You saw what you wanted to see," Nico verbalized. "That's the beauty of the mind. As long as you believe it's real, it's real."

And she blacked out.

"I'm really sorry. I truly am," Leah declared.

"It's alright," Drakon amended; his voice trembled and quaked, but he instantly composed himself. "We needed to know how far she would get. We needed to know if she would ever harm us."

"And she would," Acacia muttered, clearly upset.

"If you didn't do it, she would've eventually realized it was an illusion and would've escaped for real," Carabelle intoned.

"Heaven knows she's capable of it," Delia vocalized while healing her wounds and regenerating her.

"She's capable of it and more," Calder realized.

And she was.

* * *

Thank you all for reading! Thank you so much, guest reviewer and brankel1, for reviewing!

The next update will be in two days!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: _Infrignando_

It was twilight.

Leila tensed, pupils dilating, eyes enlarging, throat constricting; she croaked, infuriated by his presence. With perspiration gathering on her forehead, she clamped her jaw tightly, thwarted the tide of emotions bursting from her barriers, and, to prove her strength, she met their gazes.

"Going to torture me for information?"

Silence permeated the atmosphere.

"Going to repeat history again, Calder?"

"I just need to talk to you," Calder responded calmly.

"And they decided to send you here with Drakon?" she inquired incredulously. "You must be losing people by the thousands to send the two people that I hate the most in this world."

"Leila, where—"

"I'm not answering any questions, especially if they come from you two," she stated before grinning wickedly. "Why don't you two release me instead?"

But her persuasion didn't deter them.

"We've trained."

"Learnt from the best," Drakon divulged placidly.

"Acacia?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows. "It must be her, considering her ability."

They simply monitored her.

"You know, I always knew that Acacia was Adastros' mate, but I never thought she would resist him. It was interesting to watch, but she's weak, and it's been predestined for her to fall into his hands. It'll happen soon and then all of you will get what you deserve," she stated before snarling and guffawing. "Especially you, Calder. Did you really think you could betray Adastros and live?"

"I betrayed him for you!" Calder shouted with indignation. "But I bet he didn't tell you that."

She simply smiled.

"You were weak," she mocked. "Traumatized by his poor mommy's death. Traumatized by his daddy's hormones and crazed sex-life. Hm, it's interesting, isn't it? Your pathetic mother was a traitor. Your father was a cheater. You clearly come from a dysfunctional and deceitful family. It clearly seeped into your blood and made you who you are. I wonder if your mother ever spread her legs—"

"Shut up! Don't talk about my mother like that!" Calder screamed.

"Or what? You'll torture me? Well, dearest Calder, you've already done that. You have nothing over me," she taunted venomously, eyes slitting. "But I have everything over you."

"Leila, let's stop playing games and just—"

"And what? You want to hurry this along so you can screw your shapeshifter whore?" she mocked, simpering when he glowered at her. "And you can deny that she's a tramp. You can just tell that she's already spread her legs as far as they can possibly go."

He remained silent, but his stare darkened.

"Didn't you say that you two had already met? You must have left a pretty bad impression on her for her to abandon you, forget you, and fu—"

"Be quiet, Leila—"

"Sensitive topic," she stated while chuckling. "But really, Drakon, I can't get over the fact that she pranced back into this realm and claimed you as her mate when in reality she's someone else's. Both mentally, physically and sexually. I bet she doesn't even see you. I bet she sees her former lover. I bet she comforts you but thinks it's him. I bet she talks to you but thinks it's him. I bet she kisses you sweetly but thinks it's him. Have you two fooled around yet?"

His knuckles cracked.

"No," she responded while shaking her head. "Well, if you two had, she definitely would've thought it was him. Probably would've savored it. Probably would've begged for it. It's a good thing she's not fertile anymore or else she would've popped out a few mongrels. Got yourself a lucky one there. You can pop it in and out for the rest of eternity without fearing—"

"Shut up, Leila," he whispered dangerously low.

"Shut up, Leila," she repeated in a deeper tone. "What? You can't face the facts?"

He paced her confinement and glared at her before eventually composing himself.

"I bet if she had fallen to our side she would've opened up for everyone. And I do mean everyone," she divulged, giggling maliciously. "But maybe she would've become one of Adastros' favorites? Although she reeks of semen, she has spunk and personality. Maybe she would've overthrown Acacia as his mate? What do you think?"

He halted; his expression remained stoic.

"No response? Well, that's fine," she retaliated. "I bet you two haven't progressed at all. You're nothing more than platonic friends. And why? Because you two are too traumatized? No, it's not because of that at all, and you know it. It's because you disgust her. She belongs to another. Even if you two do become anything else, even if you claim her, even if you two have some fun, she'll always be his. And that drives you crazy because you know it's true."

"How do you know so much?" Drakon deflected, completely emotionless.

"Your life resembles a soap opera," she orated, evading his question.

"And you're living in it."

"I am, aren't I?" she questioned rhetorically, chortling. "Well, let's look at the facts. My parents get murdered in front of me, so I become an orphan who gets adopted by two seemingly loving parents who are actually feeding me lie after lie. Then I gain status, enlist myself in the very thing that killed my parents, and follow an inexperienced leader into the middle of the jungle, where I met my soul mate who somehow regains his conscience and becomes traumatized by my death. And in that very place, my so called brother betrays me, offering my life in exchange for his. I screamed for him, thought he would die, but it was just a ploy. And then I die. But plot twist—I come back to life. And then I turn sides. Oh my heavens, that's definitely soap opera material right there."

She hummed, cradling herself.

"Won't you release me? It's really the least you two can do. I won't escape now, and you know that. I'm not stupid. I know when I've been bested. Obviously, I'll try again later but for now, I'm content to stay here and make you two miserable," she stated while twittering with laughter.

Drakon released her, making her sigh with relief and rub her wrists.

"Drakon dearest, you should really be careful," she proclaimed, looking genuinely concerned. "You could get diseases and fleas from that prostitute."

Unable to handle his anger, he exited and slammed the door behind him. Humming with pleasure, she directed herself in front of Calder before brushing his cheeks and causing his eyelids to flutter.

"I've heard of what you've done, Calder. We could've been great together, but you ruined it. You ruined me."

"Leila, I'm sorry—"

But she guffawed.

"Sorry! Just the thought of us together made me laugh. You're far too weak for me. And you don't look like a good enough lover either. But Adastros is really good. Really, really good," she declared, giggling joyously. "He really knows—"

And he barreled through the exit, making her applaud and chortle.

From the other side of the one-way glass, Leah simply watched Leila, who entertained herself but eventually calmed down. Her lips turned down; her eyes darkened but became hollower.

"Can I go in?" Leah asked.

"I'll go with you," Acacia volunteered, while the two men hardened themselves.

They entered, merely riveting her when she perked up.

"Leah Clearwater," she greeted pleasantly. "Can I just say that you have quite the punch?"

"Thanks, Leila," Leah answered while grinning sarcastically.

"And Acacia, you have quite the spirit!"

"Thank you, Leila," Acacia responded, cracking a sardonic smile.

"I see that I've impacted the boys more than I had thought. I expected them to return, but then again they're just boys. Can't really expect much from them," she divulged before sighing. "But I'm glad you two are here to keep me company. I was afraid I would die from boredom."

"Now, Leila, why do you lie?" Leah asked curiously.

"Because it's interesting to see how people react," Leila answered honestly.

"So you enjoyed seeing Calder leave?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, thrilled. "His expression was priceless. When I told him that I was cavorting with his number one enemy, he just fell apart. He's honestly so whipped. That possessive, jealous act really isn't cute. It's definitely funny but not attractive."

"So you haven't had sex with Adastros?" Leah inquired.

"Of course not," she recited while scrunching her nose. "He's obviously attractive, but we have a much more significant relationship. We're confidents."

"Do you really think so?"

She smirked, her expression playful but taunting.

"Of course. We're practically equals. Siblings really."

"Why are you telling us this?" Acacia inquired.

"Because, dearest Acacia, it unnerves you more than you realize to know this. And if I'm going to be trapped here, I might as well entertain myself."

Silence reigned.

"You two are strong women. So are the rest of the women. But they've developed such strong bonds with their mates that they would instantly die if they died. They wouldn't have the will to live."

"You're wrong," Leah stated.

"Am I?"

"You are," Acacia disclosed.

"Look at it from my perspective: I attacked Artemis, and Acastus instantly appeared. I attacked Carabelle, and Alcander instantly appeared. Delia arrived, and so did Nico. All of them are attached to the hip. That makes them very vulnerable. But you two—well, you're special. Acacia, you don't want your mate, and you don't need him—"

"He's your superior—"

"He's my equal, as I stated previously. Alecto loves me. He adopted me as his daughter. I can speak freely about my 'brother,'" she interjected. "Now, do you two understand what I mean? Acacia, you plan to murder Adastros. And you would have if Alecto hadn't interjected. And, Leah, you obviously had problems forgetting your former lover but that made you stronger. You fermented your anger instead of vanquishing it. And you don't rely on Drakon. You two are friends, and you don't need anything more from him."

"Leila—"

"You know it's true."

"Then I don't need to spread my legs?" Leah asked without any edge.

"Of course not, silly! Males and their egos. Can't handle any competition. They always believe that their precious mates have to be completely pure," she clarified, laughing. "Obviously, you're still a virgin. Well, kinda, right? Never went all the way, did you? You just did some things. Very naughty things, right? You wanted to wait until marriage. But don't worry so is Acacia. So am I. So are the vast majority of unmated females and males these days. Just look at Drakon and Radley and all the others. There's just no more time for any fun. And honestly, everyone's probably afraid of creating a kid in these circumstances. Who could blame them? And everyone's afraid of sleeping casually with each other, just in case they somehow get trapped by the other side. But still. Women don't have to be sexually pure. I'm sure after this war ends, they'll be plenty of time for personal fun, and they'll be a baby boom."

"And who do you think will win?"

"The side that works the hardest," she verbalized abstractly but smiling.

"And how do you know this information about us?" Leah asked.

"Word gets around of course."

"You know that Adastros left you here on purpose, right?"

"Of course! I'm not stupid."

"And why did he leave you here?"

"I guess to cause trouble," she answered sincerely while twiddling her thumbs.

"And why are you revealing this?"

"Well, Carabelle can detect the truth. So can Adara. I really have no point in lying. And, like I mentioned before, this open easiness unnerves all of you."

"So will you tell us where the next attack will be?" Acacia questioned.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you."

"Can't?"

"Won't," she repeated finally.

"But Alecto knew that you knew?"

"Well, of course!" she exclaimed, enthralled. "He told me before. He obviously wanted all of you to know."

"Why?"

"It's unnerving," she chirped happily.

"So why won't you tell us?" Leah prompted.

"Because it's not time."

"Leila, you have to tell us now."

"No can do," she harmonized, giggling.

"Leila, don't make us do this," Acacia pleaded.

"But, dearest Acacia, I'm not making you do anything," she rehearsed, instinctively pouting.

"Leila—"

"I won't say anything."

"Then it has to come down to—"

"Torture?" she inquired rhetorically. "I already knew."

Calder entered, followed by Nicodemus and Drakon.

"Nico, you can start."

And he assailed her mental barriers, which instantly fortified themselves; he prodded and poked, clobbered and battered them, but they continued rebuilding. He drilled into her, while she twisted and withered. Her temples throbbed; her heart pulsated; her blood pounded. Perspiring, she heaved and lurched up before falling and shrieking. Darkening his essence, he entered but retreated two paces when she bounded forward. Her essence cackled, hissing and menacing. But he barged through and defeated her. He presented the contaminated visions, zipping through them with difficulty when her defenses began escalating and strengthening.

Frantically, he defeated her, causing her to slump over and sweat. He filed through her memories, watching as Adastros revived her; he watched as Alecto monitored her closely and sent forth his best warriors; he watched as she mercilessly murdered them and gained their trust; he watched as Alecto showered her with luxuries and favoritism, treating her as his daughter; he watched as she boldly spoke out against Adastros and created plans that rivaled his.

Calder sprinted forward, holding her quaking hands. Her eyes snapped open, and her chin flex down when she rapidly gnawed on his hand; he instantly retracted it, staring at her with an indecipherable emotion.

Nico groaned when she threw him back.

"It's midnight. If we're going to get any—"

And Nico barreled through once more but without any difficulty; her barriers had lowered themselves.

"The Infrignando are next, Leila," Alecto stated. "Do you know what you have to do?"

"Of course," she stated. "Pretend to run away, distract them until it's time and then show them when it's too late."

"That's my girl."

And Adastros shot her another glance, while she smirked.

Nico skyrocketed, wheezing with urgency.

"The Infrignando are next."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Thank you, brankel1, for reviewing!

The next update will be in two days!


	27. Chapter 27

_Warning: gruesome war and death imagery._

* * *

Chapter 27: _You've Forced My Hand_

Blood showered her.

It was daunting; it was chilling; it was inundating.

The ghastly stench of death—of fear-induced vomiting and retching, of sweat and urine, of polluted, contaminated blood—pervaded the atmosphere. Fresh corpses with whitened irises, rolled eyeballs, missing, gaping sockets, and dark under eyes, preoccupied the ground. They were stacked on top of each other. Defeated carcasses with ghastly flesh—savagely cleaved and clouted, lacerated and disfigured—hung from branches, dangling above their heads and splattering them with their saliva and blood; defaced cadavers with hacked off limbs, bleeding stubs, semi-ripped fingers or toes or legs or ankles, fractured ribs and collarbones and shoulders, snapped, hanging necks, laid beneath their feet.

It was disheartening; it was frustrating; it was inundating.

Blood splattered onto her lips. She gagged, heaving but eventually hardening herself.

Everyone wilted, struck deeply.

But she suddenly perked up, head whipping to the side, fists clenching, heart hammering, chest heaving.

The sound of sudden exclamations, abrupt shouts, curses and damnations, followed by poorly repressed groans and determined words, permeated the atmosphere.

Leah instantly propelled her legs further into the outskirts of the woods; she barraged forward and followed their lead with urgency but premeditated calculations. Instinctively, she swung forward and sprinted over the branches until she stood above the battle. Artemis settled beside her and gestured to two wounded men, who heaved and respired shallowly. They glanced at the rebels who growled and surrounded her. After calculating the drop, she plunged and pummeled the man she had landed on; he instantly seized her fists before securing his grasp over her arms and overturning her. Howling, he called forth two of his comrades, who pulled on her roots. Used to those types of attacks, she forced her legs up and jostled his head; she struck his jaw before lurching forward and then upward. Without recoiling, she yanked herself from their grasps and ripped the entire bottom half of her hair. Leah hurled herself forward and wrapped her arms around his neck; she squeezed and and put him in front of herself. His head ultimately lulled to the side; his eyes rolled to the back of his head; his desperate arms became limp.

His companions launched themselves forward. Hastily, she cast his body aside before purposefully colliding with the two rebels; she landed beside them—with one of their heads propped onto her left shoulder and with the other lying beneath her feet. Her body ached; her muscles burned. But she entangled her legs around his head and clamped her ankles together before strangling him; she then gripped the other, battering his temples before strangling him. The two frantically gnawed, scratched, and serrated her, but she refused to release them—even when another rebel repeatedly trampled on her chest. When their bodies stopped flailing, she rammed into the lithe women who hissed and struck her twice before tackling her to the ground; the two wrestled before Leah seized her midsection and hauled her up. Instinctively, she slammed her into the ground before kneeing her gut and snapping her neck. Her mouth gaped open with astonishment; her chest stopped rising.

Three more barreled forward. Promptly, she somersaulted off the trunk, spun, and settled herself on her opponent's back; she quickly snapped his neck and hurried towards her next adversary, who cresent kicked her and punched the side of her head. Leah removed herself from her direction when she roundhouse kicked her and then slammed her against two trunks. Quickly, she pressed her pressure points and snapped her neck before hurriedly diving sideways when her enemy approached her; she hurled herself onto his back before pinning him to the ground. She ripped through his neck.

A legion pursued her. She clambered up, but she miscalculated and unconsciously let four rebels attach themselves onto her calves and tow her down; she withered, tossing and turning, kicking and flailing, surmounting and cursing, kicking and screaming. But she ultimately relaxed and descended. The whoosh awakened her completely, fooling the soldiers into believing she had fainted. Leah lacerated their faces and scratched out their eyes before killing them and casting their bodies aside. Instantly, they climbed the trees and relied on their instincts to guide them up, then forwards and sideways, where they launched as one formation. Thinking quickly, she leapt towards the opposite side, where her allies quickly welcomed her; she glared when her adversaries lurched forward but, when Artemisia exposed herself, they plunged to the ground. They gamboled before spotting their comrades and throttling them.

Artemis ushered them into the receding tide of rebels.

Leah helped the bleeding soldiers but, when a multitude of unfaltering creatures encircled her, she rushed forward, freighted, dove underneath one of the rebel's legs, gripped his ankles, snapped his neck, and swung his mangled body sideways. Quickly, Delia probed the wave before entering it and waltzing on top of their heads. She snapped their necks. Simultaneously, Leah fractured their collarbones and snapped their necks before moving forward and side kicking a rebel who had crept behind Delia. The two female warriors guarded the wounded soldiers, backs pressed to each other. Leah suddenly grabbed Delia from behind and hauled her up, letting her kick four men. They promptly stumbled back, holding their throbbing, bleeding heads. With one more movement, Leah surged forward and serrated their throats. When two men staggered and toppled over, Leah and Delia hauled them over to the side. Delia pressed her hand to their foreheads, cooling their overheated heads, fixing their gaping wounds, and whitening their bruises.

"Thank you so much."

"You two saved our lives."

"You're welcome," Delia orated.

"You're—"

But she stopped. Another swarm surged forwards. Speedily, she traveled forward before scurrying sideways when maniacal barbarians materialized from the edges of the obscurity. They whisked her to the opposite side of the battlefield. Leah shot forward, tearing through the first layer but hissing and howling with unadulterated vexation when she barreled back. Her six adversaries circled her. Jutting her jaw, she shot up and suspended herself above their heads with her palms furtively gripping the trunk of a tree; she enfolded her knees and pressed them into her stomach before climbing. Jeering, her opponents bristled and seethed and hunted her down. Without hesitating, she escalated before glancing down at their scrambling figures; she stood, balanced herself properly, and clattered some branches. With every jostle, she disrupted the bottom part of the tree until the branch beneath her feet swooped and sunk. It splintered and smashed the ones beneath her, causing her adversaries to fall onto the ground. Astonished, their bodies wavered and convulsed erratically. Quickly, she descended and stomped on their heads.

Ardently, she accelerated towards two immortals who briskly besieged her, kicking, punching and pouncing on her; she scowled and cursed before bombarding the couple who rapidly spun around and sparred with her. She slammed the female down and pinned her wrists above her head before kneeing her midsection and whipping back her head. Hurriedly, the male hastened forward and pulled her head back; he scratched the side of her face before moving up and placing pressure on her eyes. Shrieking, Leah frantically pawed his hands before abandoning his mate and swiveling around; she roundhouse kicked him before gripping his head and striking him repeatedly. With vigor, his mate returned and strangled her, causing her to stumble back and elbow her chest. Leah broke her nose and tackled her to the ground before overturning her and putting her in front of her mate. She withered, twisting and tossing and turning aggressively; she freighted, slackening her muscles and grunting loudly. When her mate dashed forward—when the woman nearly tore out of her grasp—she flicked her wrists and launched her forward. Her mate accidentally perforated her chest. She gagged and vomited, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

He shouted and shrilled and shrieked when her chest stopped rising. Mercilessly, Leah snapped his neck and watched as he landed beside his mate.

Another tackled her. He guffawed, spitting inside her cornea. When he jolted forward slightly, he unknowingly let her stick her stomach up and pull her legs apart; she swung them up, striking him to the point where he flew forward. Leah somersaulted but growled when one of his comrades tried to dent the side of her head; she tore his hands from her head before towing him toward her, cleaving through the flesh on his arms, clouting his head and then ripping his throat. She pursued the other and pushed him against a trunk before snapping his neck. Leah noticed that another wave washed towards her. They lunged,

eyes kindling with an incurable thirst for blood.

Spirited, she confronted her adversary before walloping, groin kicking him and then pressing his temples; she barreled forward and struck her opponent before cutting through his throat. With her nostrils flaring, she very narrowly avoided two pairs of hands that flew to her neck; she crouched and then side kicked one of their temples before rolling back and landing in front of another competitor, who trampled on her head and disoriented her. While wheezing, she sprouted, whizzed forward, freighted, retreated, and then dove forward. Leah swept her legs from underneath her form. When the two toppled over, two more competitors traipsed behind them and struck Leah. Quickly, she bled and groaned but jutted her jaw up.

The trio advanced and launched themselves forward; the male cornered her before gripping her neck and propping her on the trunk. When he strangled her, she fought, but he dipped his mouth forward and punctured her neck; she withered before slashing the side of his face and scratching one of his eyes. She continued—even when he released her, even when he wailed, even when he lamented, even when his socket bled and his eye rolled forward. Leah promptly killed him. When the remaining duo propelled themselves forward, she cleaved through the side of their faces before pressing the female's pressure points, abandoning her and hunting down the male. He gripped her shoulders and squeezed, threatening to dislocate them. But she was faster. She prodded his sides before groin kicking him, turning him over, and slashing his neck; she then trampled on the floundering female, whose mouth remained wide open with pathetic screams clogging her throat.

Another unfortunate soul wandered forward. And she clasped her hands over his jugular before clouting the side of his head and tightening her hold. His hands pawed her own and bent her wrists back, but she merely groin kicked him and then snapped his neck.

More rebels bounded toward her. After seizing the first, she overturned him, pinned his hands to his back and then promptly slashed through his neck; she cast him aside before staring at the carcass on the ground beneath her. Very deliberately, she trampled on his neck and lacerated his figure. With resentment inundating them, the group leapt as one. Leah hastened forward and clobbered the one ushering them; she battered, pulverized, stomped and pelted him with her fists. When two managed to entrap her—one from behind and one from the front—she stepped forward and placed her arms over his hands. Leah spun around and kicked his groin. Spinning, she towed him along and forced the two to crash together before delivering the final blow to their temples.

When two more skidded in front of her, she roundhouse kicked him before sidekicking his throat and whizzing past the fallen rebel. She walloped him. Slightly weakened but angered immensely, the rebel scowled and sneered, but she meandered toward him. Expecting her attack, he ducked and sent his legs in her direction, but she soared, tackled him and snapped his neck.

Chrysanthe, Nicodemus' mother, crept behind the upcoming wave of rebels, who congregated beneath the cover of the verdure; she swiftly prodded the sinewy beasts in front of her and clamped her fingers on their pressure points. Chrysanthe seized three and slashed through their throats before retrieving one and dislocating his shoulders; she kicked his knees and punctured his throat with her serrated teeth. With the distraction, Nicodemus' father, Alexios, wandered behind them and manipulated their senses. He momentarily blinded and deafened them. Aprodisios and Jason, Delia's parents, eliminated them quickly and efficiently. They ushered the other two in the direction of a profusion of rebels who tried to flee.

From her peripheral vision, the rebels lurking behind the shadows prowled forward. The surrounding blood-lusting beasts wandered forward, riveting them with blood-lusting irises. With their melodic tenors, the men encompassed them before shrinking and shrieking when the trio of sirens choked them by thickening the atmosphere. Micah invited forward his fair share of females, who ravaged him with their eyes before stalking forward; he centered himself in front of his crowd of female warriors, who suddenly pounced on his form. Suddenly overclouded with darkness, Micah avoided the onslaught, which moved erratically, frantically, desperately. Immediately, he thickened the atmosphere, squeezing and strangulating before ceasing and briefly staring at his victims.

A human barrier formed, circling him and his sisters. Hardly deterred by their presences, Sera darted forward before bouncing on her heels and directing herself at them. Her siblings mirrored her actions. With ease, she cleaved through the layers before decamping a few meters and side kicking their temples. Sera crescent kicked, crouched, rose, punched, dodged, and then surged forward. She pinned down several men and women and quickly snapped their necks.

Together, they merged their abilities and created convincing visions. But they abruptly stopped when two rebels serrated Charmeine. They isolated her, biting and gnawing her neck before moving down and teasing her curves with their soiled hands. Instinctively, she groin kicked her nearest adversary, rotated, seized his collars, rotated him to the other side, snapped his neck, and cast him aside. Charmeine barreled into his revengeful comrade, who shouted his wanton desires at her and defiled her with his mere gaze. But she challenged him, chin raised, shoulders squared, jaw jutted. He hastened forward, practically salivating at the sight of her neck; he quickly grappled her by her midsection and ripped the neckline of her shirt, exposing part of her chest. She launched herself forward and twisted his spine, reveling in the convulsions dispersing throughout his body. Grinning darkly, she hurled him onto the ground before stomping and trampling on his groin, squishing and squeezing and yanking before puncturing him with the heel of her foot. While simpering, she executed him.

Another launched himself, but she ruptured his chest and strangled him; she dehydrated his mate's body before snapping both of their necks. Micah threw her his shirt, which she hurriedly threw over her exposed form.

Micah conjured the image of a curvaceous woman with bright lips, glowing, swarthy skin, flustered cheeks, and such soft, soft eyes that widened when the swarm of men flocked her; she quaked and squawked but fell to the ground. She crawled and whimpered and hyperventilated. But she discreetly exposed her shapely legs. With her hands wandering her sides, she accentuated her shapely figure, growing increasingly more confident and bold with her movements. Gulping thickly, the rebels wandered forward. They were hypnotized by her beauty, enraptured by her fluttering eyelids, winking eyes, smirking, red lips.

"Only one," she commanded; her tenor fluctuated with carnal desire and wavered with ecstasy.

They abruptly stopped, glancing at each other before riveting her provocative form. Without thinking, they swarmed each other. Some latched themselves onto swaying branches before lifting their legs up, camouflaging themselves, and locking their ankles around their throats; they strangulated and squeezed, choking and suffocating their own comrades before disentangling themselves from the trunks and plucking more of their fellow companions. They killed brutally, viciously, remorselessly. Until three remained.

"One one," she reminded them; her voice thickened but softened, invigorating them.

The trio circled each other, growling, hissing, seething. One barged into another and tackled him before walloping him; the other shot forward and wrapped his arms around his neck, while the one withering on the floor quickly tore through his hold and prepared himself to knee him back. But the man merely smirked. He steadied himself on top of his opponent's chest before sliding his knees on his neck. Without pausing, he elbowed his adversary's midsection before rapidly overturning him, snapping his neck and casting him aside; he then strangled his former comrade, eyes blazing brightly with success. When his head lulled to the side, he rejoiced and ascended—jittery with triumphant success.

"You're the winner," she murmured, lips curling upward. "Come here so we can—"

And he instantly wandered forward, eager to touch, eager to feel, eager to conquer and possess.

She beamed broadly before her lips elongated grotesquely, cheeks stretching, dimples arising, nose scrunching; she rose and wandered forward, showing him the curve of her breasts. She grabbed his hands and put them along the sides of her body. He greedily pounced, but she righted him and kissed his neck. She kissed him sweetly before suddenly extending her mouth and biting his neck. But she morphed, becoming stronger and fiercer and more animalistic. Her nostrils elongated and flared; her cheeks became gaunt and heavily contorted; her mane of hair grew; her lips distended.

He thrashed, shrieking and shouting, bellowing and battering her. But she merely feasted upon his flesh and savored the sensation of his blood squirting onto her lips. When she finished, his body shriveled. She vanished, becoming a horrid memory.

When two crawled forward, Lailah punched their stomachs and skidded her feet against the ground as she dove and pinned them down. The duo teamed together, but she roundhouse kicked them and barreled into them. They blacked out. She fractured their necks and flitted in the direction of her brother.

While thickening the atmosphere, Seraphina circled her new victims. But she halted and rejoined her siblings. Together, they conjured strange visions that paralyzed them—that caused them to suddenly plunge to the ground and scratch their chests until they serrated themselves and committed involuntary suicide.

Nico lurched towards his adversaries, who hurled themselves forward; he bounced on his heels before launching himself against other trees and congregating another crowd. Hardly deterred, he crouched and threw himself against four rebels, who, flustered and unexpectant, toppled over. He lacerated their throats. With premeditated calculations, he repeatedly punched, kicked, and murdered.

Nico manipulated his illusions to the point where they became brighter and more vivid—more appealing and enticing, more persuasive and bewitching. They attracted a multitude of rebels who easily fell under their spell and perished.

Those who persisted wandered forward and latched themselves onto her legs; she swatted and smacked their faces, but she scowled when they scratched her hands. Before they could attach themselves onto her ankles, she purposely dove and dispatched. Leah jeered when one landed on her and hurled her onto the ground. She withered against their greedy, blood-lusting hands, but she cursed and damned them to Hell when they walloped her; she shouted with resentment before uncoiling herself, making herself vulnerable, and then clobbering them. She scratched their faces, placed her thumbs inside their eyes, and impelled them backw. Leah cleaved and clouted them before killing them and hearing the placid sound of silence.

It had ended.

But from her peripheral vision, she saw two figures tearing through the woods. Hooting, she crept forward and deliberately waltzed across the branches.

Leah crouched and converged with the wildlife before glancing sideways at the person standing beside her. The figures slowed, panicking and arguing. Shrill hoots echoed through her ears. Leah whistled lowly before bouncing on her heels, skyrocketing and landing on her victim. He groaned and groused before punching her stomach. While snarling, she bashed his head against the ground. Grunting, he kicked her stomach, which instantly throbbed with searing pain. But she

clamped her fingers over his pressure points and strangled him. His head lulled to the side, while his eyelids fluttered but finally failed and fell.

Leah carried him. Alcander hauled his prisoner forward. She smirked, but her expression instantly receded.

Blood pooled beneath her feet.

"We have to interrogate them now."

But she couldn't focus.

Blood showered her.

"Leah."

Blood stained her swarthy skin.

"Leah."

Blood lingered beneath her fingernails.

"Leah!"

Blood remained on her lips.

"Leah!"

Warm hands shook her.

"Leah!"

But she could feel the frigidness of the corpses.

"Leah, what's wrong!"

And she finally focused, head spinning, heart hammering, vision clearing.

"I'm fine," she amended mindlessly. "I'm fine."

He analyzed her critically, eyeing her from head-to-toe—until she shook her head and handed him the body.

"I'm fine."

And she transformed, becoming stronger and fiercer.

"Let's start."

But Drakon hesitated.

"Let's start."

"Okay, let's start," he confirmed. "Alistair, restrain Gabriel. Radley, detain Liam. And we can begin."

They awakened them by threatening to dislocate their shoulders and inserting their darkened essences inside their heads.

"Now, tell us what's happening," Nicodemus ordered.

Gabriel spat, guffawing joyously, maniacally but desperately.

"Tell us what's happening," he repeated.

Liam sibilated, growling and sneering, hardening and jeering, but ultimately waning and receding mentally.

"Gabriel, where were you going?" Alexios prompted.

"To patrol the outskirts. To make sure that all the rebels were contained," he lied easily while smirking.

"Even though you're a rebel yourself?" Chrysanthe asked curiously.

"What accusations!" he exclaimed. "Liam, can you believe—"

"Drop the act," Aprodisios stated, eyes slitting.

"But my dearest—"

"Drop the act," Jason reiterated, annoyed. "We're wasting time. And you know it. It's exactly what you want."

"But I don't—"

"We want you to stop," Delia menaced while wandering forth and brushing their temples with the tips of her fingers. "Remember, Liam—remember, Gabriel—we all have very useful gifts—gifts that can give life and take it away. You wouldn't want to tempt us any further."

"Exactly," Liam rasped. "We know you'll just kill us anyway. And we would rather die as loyalists rather than treacherous leeches who sell out their cause."

"A cause that knew you two would die," Leah interjected before twittering with ironic laughter.

"And who are you? A mere mongrel that they house as a pet! Where's your leash, you psychotic bit—"

Suddenly, Liam screeched, groveling and supplicating, bellowing and bewailing, floundering and flailing before finally stopping and repeating and stopping and repeating.

"What are you doing?" Gabriel demanded, eyes widening with fear.

"Like I said before, just as we can—"

"But you've never—"

"Don't interrupt people when they're talking, Gabriel. It's incredibly rude," Delia reprimanded before stroking the side of his face and snaking towards his temples.

"D-Delia—"

"I can't hear you, Gabriel. You're mumbling. Didn't you learn that you have to speak up when you're talking?"

"Delia, please—"

"Begging will not get you anywhere," she reminded him. "Just tell us what we need."

"You're crazy if you think I'll tell you anything—if we'll tell you anything," he started, panicking. "You're nothing compared to Adastros and Alecto and—"

He shuddered, pupils dilating with pure fear.

"Who?" Carabelle prompted.

"His d-daughter—"

"Leila?" Drakon asked, disturbed.

"So y-you k-know—"

"Like we said before, your superiors have sacrificed your lives. You're just pawns in this game," Leah proclaimed while grimacing. "Leila told us where the battle was. She knew everything. Alecto told her to tell us at the precise moment that benefited them. And they entrusted Matthew with the knowledge that other spies existed in other kingdoms. Everything has been a game. And you're nothing more than pieces that can be used to achieve their ultimate goal."

"You're lying!" Gabriel shouted. But Liam wavered.

"Am I?" Leah questioned rhetorically before crouching in front of him. "You know I'm not. Why were you leaving?"

"You don't have the—"

"We'll make a deal," Nico offered placidly. "One that benefits all of us."

"You can rot in Hell! I'm not going to—"

But Gabriel shriveled and shouted before convulsing and vomiting.

"Interrupting is rude," Delia repeated.

"What a-are you d-doing to me?" Gabriel wheezed.

"You h-have t-the a-ability to heal," Liam stammered, "so h-how a-are y-you doing this?"

"I'm doing exactly what you're saying," Delia divulged cynically, composure hardening, posture straightening, essence darkening. "I'm healing you. Just much more quickly than necessary. I'm healing you to the point where your body is rejecting the changes and is threatening to burst."

They breathed harshly, growing frightened when her previously softened features hardened—when her irises dilated, widened, and reddened.

"If you don't tell us where you were going, what is happening, and what awaits us, I'm going to have to heal you," she stated ironically, tilting her head to the side and smiling broadly. "Of course, you'll have optimal health and surpass it. Your brain will inflate and outweigh your brain stem; your lungs will stretch and overexert themselves; your heart will expand and explode. It'll happen in an instant. But it'll definitely be painful."

"Delia, y-you a-aren't l-like t-this," Liam stumbled.

"But you're forcing my hand."

"Or we have another offer for you: you tell us, and we let you go," Nico orated after crossing his hands.

"You're l-lying!"

"Am I?" he prompted. "I guess you're just going to have to find out yourself."

Silence reigned until Delia clasped her hands around Gabriel's head, until her fingertips brushed his temples, until an indescribable pain distended across his entire body. He convulsed and sibilated. He bellowed and wailed, keened and lamented, but Delia persisted until he begged for mercy.

"Done?"

"Do y-you promise?" Gabriel rasped.

"Of course," Nico stated. "We never go back on our promises. And I guarantee you that your superiors will leave you alone."

"How?" Liam asked.

Suddenly, Alcander and Drakon swooped in before touching their throbbing temples and pressing slightly; their essences travelled through the fortifications and pervaded their defenses. Tearing through, they inserted their essences. They screeched with newfound desperateness. The two tore through their bonds before completely severing the lassos.

"Now, they'll know that we have you and that we're most likely going to kill you—at least that's what they'll think," Alcander verbalized, perspiring from overexertion.

"So, where were you two going?" Chrysanthe inquired calmly, soothing them with her aurora.

"We w-were going to g-go to the Forti Animo," Liam divulged.

"You thought this was the main attack—but it wasn't. It was only a distraction."

"But o-our parents sent h-half our troops h-here," Artemis vocalized, nearly fainting.

"I know," Gabriel uttered. "We're the ones in charge for calling for back-ups. Everyone has probably been massacred. We sent the majority of our troops there, not here."

"You treacherous—"

"Now, we had a deal," Gabriel interjected.

"We did," Nico orated while sauntering forward and crouching beside them. "Radley, Alistair, let them go."

Cautiously, the two rebels backtracked into the obscurity. When their former allies stilled, they sprinted further and further away from them.

But in reality, they reposed, heads lulling to one side, eyelids palpitating frantically, limbs shaking erratically. Until their hearts stopped beating.

"We gave them more than what they deserved," Admes started.

"A quick painless death," Aristo finished, revolted. "They thought they escaped to live their own lives, but they actually died. We should've just killed them—those traitorous bastards."

"We're losing time," Artemis proclaimed, frightened. "We have to leave now."

"We'll send our troops in," Alexios proclaimed, concerned. "Artemis, we're sorry—"

"Let's just go."

* * *

Thank you everyone who has read and favorited my story! Very appreciated! Thank you, brankel1, for reviewing!

It's getting a bit more gruesome. From here on, I just want to say that the chapters will have some violent and gory imagery associated with war. There will also be some suggestive language, like there was in the last chapter with Leila. Nothing too explicit, I believe, but I apologize in advance if anything offends anyone. I will try to put warnings at the beginning of every chapter!

Thank you all again, and the next chapter will be in two days!


	28. Chapter 28

Warning: imagery related to war and death. These scenes will be sprinkled throughout the rest of the story.

* * *

Chapter 28: _Everything Is Coming Together_

Adrenaline coursed through her.

When two rebels neared her, Leah abruptly swerved, slowed, spiraled down, and groin kicked one; she battered him before leaping forward, swinging her legs around his neck, and pushing him down. Once his partner hastened forward, she sidekicked him and made sure he busied himself with his bleeding nose. Leah dove and elbowed her adversary's stomach; she grappled his neck, squeezing to the point where he serrated her wrists. But she continued until he died. Muscles aching, she lurched forward and crescent kicked her other adversary. She hit the top of his head before wounding his shoulder and hitting his stomach. Leah prodded him before roundhouse kicking him. Following her instincts, she jabbed and prodded his sides, but her opponent easily deflected her blows and clenched his hands over her fists. Vigorously, the rebel strangled her; she dipped back slumping back, stomach contracting, eyes rolling back, skin becoming ghastly and pasty; she heaved and nearly vomited. Leah leaned over his muscular arms until he quickly loosened her grip.

Leah managed to sweep her legs backward, making both of them fall on opposite sides; she wrapped her legs around his neck, strangling and suffocating him. Zealously, she tightened her hold, but she suddenly barreled back.

He smirked maliciously, teeth exposed, nails outstretched, muscles tensed. Zealously, he propelled himself forward and purposefully slammed into her. But she grabbed his throat with her claws before overturning him and grappling onto his hands; she covered his mouth before banging his head against the ground. She teased and nicked his neck before serrating his neck.

Her allies progressed.

With his ability, Aristo quickly overwhelmed their minds before moving forward and barraging into the crowd of rebels. When he surged forward, a vivacious rebel rapidly caught his body and twisted it to the point where his ribcage became exposed and his neck lied in between her crossed arms; she applied pressure on his body, imprinting the mark of her handprints over his ribcage before squeezing his ribs. Before she could fracture his ribs, he quickly elbowed her stomach, tore her hands from his throat and cast her aside; he threw his entire weight forward and used his nimbleness to slam into her midsection and strangle her. Once Death claimed her, he continued, crackling with power and adrenaline. He overwhelmed his opponents, who fled and ran into Acacia.

Growling, Acacia crept behind their frames and rattled them to the point where they whimpered and died. She entangled herself with the rest of the fleeing rebels. While mocking them, she quickly grappled the nearest rebel and hauled him above the ground by his collar; she snarled when the rest neared her before speedily serrating his throat and swinging his body from side-to-side. She struck four immortals. But they rapidly halted, hands clutching their throats, chests heaving, blood spilling, hands finally failing and falling to their sides. They exposed their lacerated necks.

Without wasting any time, Artemis played the perfect image of a victim by scattering across the expanse and attracting a profusion of rebels. Together, they lunged. Acacia easily squirmed from their grasps before hastily punching, walloping, and bashing their heads. While altering their mindsets, she progressed onward and let Acastus latch himself onto her frame. Acacia lacerated their throats. He bashed their temples and slowed down their attempts.

When three managed to seize her—one from behind, one from the front, and one from the side—she very deliberately snapped his wrists, kicked her legs up, and somersaulted. Acacia beat her opponent from the back and crescent kicked her side adversary. She pounced on the nearest one and clouted the side of his head until his eyes rolled back; she tackled the next one before throwing him in his comrade's direction and simultaneously killing both of them.

Once Artemisia descended the staircase, Acastus quickly hurled himself in front of her. He pummeled him repeatedly until he delivered the final blow and launched himself at his other adversary, who struck him once; he cresent kicked him before tackling him to the ground and ripping out his throat.

When the rebels had been incapacitated, they all decamped and followed the sounds of frightened bellows, abrupt whimpers, and commands.

Leah respired shallowly, perturbed by the raving, raging barbarians hurling themselves against the shielded entrance. But her respiration normalized when she saw soldiers fighting vigilantly and defeating the rebels.

The ambiguity of the atmosphere descended. With his significantly darkened essence, Drakon delved into the profoundest depths of their minds and revived their traumas; his victims quickly scratched their temples and committed suicide. As Drakon trotted forward, he darkened their flesh and made blood leak from the corners of their mouths and nostrils. The two siblings worked together, strengthening the obscurity as they traveled onward. Gwendolyn targeted the rebels who tried to flee; she created human shapes that quickly forced them onto the ground, where they repeatedly kicked and fractured their ribs and moved onto the rest. Alcander stayed close to Cara, but he shifted and transfigured the obscurity into a thick fog that snaked around their adversaries.

With her abilities, Carabelle condensed the remaining light in the vicinity before strengthening. They rebels were blinded, and they plunged to the ground. They scratched their open sockets before disintegrating when the radiance touched them.

Artemis and Nico, as well as the Sirens, teamed together, creating lucid hallucinations that caused their downfall. Overwhelmed by the illusions, they committed treasonous actions: they killed and tortured before eventually committing suicide.

When Artemis spotted her parents, she rushed forward.

Artemisios eluded the upcoming wave of immortals by side kicking their temples; he swatted and then tackled them before quickly trampling their throats. When he was distracted, another adversary wrapped his arms around his neck; he quickly groin kicked him before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Suddenly, his eyes glazed over. He faltered and toppled over; he grumbled when his adversary savagely dug deeper and deeper into his chest.

Artemis screeched, appalled. Admes and Aristo sprinted forward, growling and emanating the full extent of their abilities, which permitted them to part the sea of immortals and kill their adversaries.

Asteria hurriedly dodged her opponent by ducking, darting forward, freighting, and knocking her off balance. When her opponent miscalculated her attack, she quickly zoomed forward and threw the entirety of her weight onto her chest. She elongated her nails and sliced through her throat before hurrying to her husband and serrating the rebel's face. Without pausing, she pierced the side of his body before overturning him and hauling him off her husband's body; she cast him aside before stabilizing his body with her knees and punching his eyes—to the point where they blackened and bled profusely. With one swift movement, she snapped his neck.

The fight receded, faded and evaporated.

The commotion had ended.

But Artemis wept, startled by her father's ghastly appearance.

Immediately, Delia darted forward and healed him. Slowly, his eyes reopened, seeking his children and his wife.

"I'm okay," he rasped. "Thank you, Delia."

But his eyes focused on the bodies that surrounded them.

It had been a massacre. But they had triumphed.

"Where are the civilians?" Admes asked.

"Inside. They're all safe," Asteria stated, considerably alleviated.

"What happened?" Aristo questioned.

"We found out who the traitors were; they told us that an attack was coming after we tortured them for information, so we eliminated them and managed to gather all the civilians and protect them," Artemisios proclaimed.

"Joanne, how many soldiers did we lose?" Asteria questioned, momentarily heedful.

"Only twenty," Joanne—their second-in-command—replied.

They sighed with relief.

"We'll perform the funeral service immediately and then we'll start rebuilding our fortifications. We were extremely lucky this time," Artemisios proclaimed.

* * *

While perspiring, Leah glanced at the congregation around her. Everyone had helped. Some had cremated the bodies. Others hand opened small holes. And the remaining population waited.

She stepped away from the hole she had created before standing beside Drakon and Carabelle—who had blood stains over their clothes.

"We're gathered here today to celebrate the lives of our loyal soldiers—who were greatly loved and appreciated during their lifetime and will continue to be loved in their afterlife. They're not gone; they continue to live with us. We will always remember them in their times of happiness and joy—in their childhood mischief and adult wisdom. As a symbol of their immortality, we have cremated their bodies and will plant their ashes with seeds," Artemisios declared while smiling down at his congregation.

"As the seeds grow and blossom, our loved ones will continue to grow with the trees," Asteria verbalized. "I will always cherish the moments that I had with them; they were some of my greatest friends. They witnessed my childhood immaturity, as some of you remember. They protected and helped me; they made sure I stayed out of trouble, which I always found through my jokes and pranks. And they made me so, so happy. And it makes me so happy that I'll get to see them everyday. They're not here physically right now, but they will be. But I know in my heart that they are here with us right now, laughing and smiling and telling us to remember them in their happiest moments because they were selfless people who only wished for the best."

Everyone murmured their own happy memories, smiling and crying but laughing as they reminisced.

Then, the direct family members buried the ashes with the seeds before closing the hole and adding water.

And miraculously, the seeds budded.

* * *

Fire engulfed her.

She heard high-pitched screams coming from the center of the vicinity; she wandered forward, flinching when she heard hurried footsteps, ear-splitting bellows and heart-wrenching whimpers.

Frightened, she sprinted forward and caught brief glimpses of armed immortals pushing high-ranking soldiers to the ground. They stomped and trampled on their throats before helping their tortured comrades. Their heads were bashed; their eyes were white and rolled back, and their throats were clogged.

Aghast, she stumbled back before tiptoeing forward and shrieking when the flames grabbed the defiled soldiers.

"You have conquered and tortured us, isolated us from our allies and family members, killed us mentally and physically but not spiritually. And it's our time to rise! The Bellators will not submit to your desires anymore!"

They all chanted, rapidly gaining strength and confidence as they barraged through the ranks. They refused to back down without trying.

Suddenly, she jolted up, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed.

She left.

Everything was coming together.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Thank you, brankel1, for reviewing!

Everything is coming together!


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29: _Bellators_

Leah followed Drakon, who discreetly and wordlessly ushered them forward and prompted them into snaking around the woods. She swooped low, crawled beneath sunken trees, ascended and repeatedly scanned the entire vicinity. His hands trembled; his chest ascended and descended quickly, frantically, desperately. His heart hammered erratically; his eyes darted throughout the lot; his ears perked; his respiration quickened; his pupils dilated with fear and caution.

Leah gripped his tremulous hand and squeezed it. His eyes flashed, kindling with gratitude. But his gaze dimmed and died when he encountered the familiar sight of his own reflection in the tree-line. Drakon swerved and expressionlessly gathered his group. He followed the plan and lowered his voice, but they knew they were listening.

"We have to leave now. There's rebels everywhere."

"We know this land," Lailah whispered.

"Don't worry, Drakon," Leah soothed.

"Then we play along and reach the outskirts. From there, we can escape."

Leah tightened her hold over his hand and looked completely clueless. But inside she recoiled. Almost instantly, he intertwined their fingers and skimmed her knuckles with his fingers. Behind them, Lailah and Aristo talked freely. Micah guffawed and listened actively before playfully swatting Lailah.

They traipsed deeper and deeper into the woods. They were acutely aware of the branches rocking back-and-forth, of the footsteps bouncing to-and-fro, of the animalistic sounds flowing throughout the vicinity.

But the forest condensed. The trees started dispersing across the lot, thinning and stretching along the horizon before—

She barreled back, but Drakon hastened forward and stopped her from colliding into the surrounding trees; she shuffled forward before quickly sidestepping two rebels, who pounced and landed behind her. Leah sidekicked one of their temples before retreating two paces. When they tried to crescent kick her, she slid forward. After rising, she put her fists in front of her face and suddenly lurched forward; she barged into two rebels and struck their pressure point before trampling on their throats. Leah faced two more, who quickly sidestepped her blows.

One crouched and tackled her legs, causing her to fall and land beside his partner, who punched her nose and broke it. She quickly shielded her face with her hands before suddenly surging forward and groin kicking him; she tackled him before bashing his head and rendering him invalid. The other whipped her back-and-forth until her face whitened. Remorselessly, she elbowed his gut, launched herself forward, dislocated his jaw, shattered his collarbones, scratched out his eyes and then delivered the final, perilous blow.

Detecting another presence, she sidekicked his throat and somersaulted, landing behind him and entrapping him completely; she yanked his hair and walloped him to the point where blood leaked from his open wounds. Quickly, she sliced open his throat, but she gasped when hands wrapped around her neck and strangled her. She groin kicked him, but he choked her to the point where she flexed her chin down and bit down on his knuckles. But he continued. Leah floundered and wobbled, running out of oxygen. Her eyes popped open, and her cheeks thinned.

From her peripheral vision, Drakon advanced and savagely lacerated his adversaries before barraging into two stalwart figures, who struck the back of his head, impaled his pressure points, groin kicked him, and

battered his temples. His eyelids faltered and fell.

Lailah tried to coax them with her allure, but one of the rebels punched her mouth and brutally grabbed her tongue; she yelped, but he captured her and serrated the insides of her mouth.

When Micah and Aristo marched forward, they became paralyzed by their wardens.

Leah promptly blacked out.

When she awakened, she immediately saw her allies glancing at her side; she instantly looked sideways and flinched when she noticed Drakon's ghastly appearance. His face whitened, layered with perspiration; his eyes narrowed and glowered, filled with fear and self-loathing; his chest heaved erratically, overwhelmed by resentment and vexation.

Instinctively, she moved forward, but she gagged and choked when she found that her throat had been enchained; she riveted herself and noticed that chains bound her arms, wrists and legs. The waste of previous prisoners laid beneath her bare feet. It squished underneath her feet and soaked her clothing. She scrunched her nose up with distaste before coughing and hacking from the overbearing heat. When she turned, she surveyed Drakon, whose shoulders squared and eyes ignited with murderous emotions.

"It's alright," she soothed. "It's not your fault."

"It is," he stated before laughing ironically. "This is where we got captured before. And I couldn't even correct my mistake. I led us into the same trap."

"But it's not your fault!" Lailah exclaimed with conviction.

"We needed to go through this way," Aristo uttered, smiling grimly.

"It was the only way," Micah added, shooting them knowing looks.

Drakon shook his head, disappointed. But his expression darkened when the entrance opened and revealed two familiar figures, who sauntered forward and surveyed them. Eyes sparking with interest, Adastros stepped in front of Leah. His fingertips rolled across her cheeks and neared the corner of her mouth. Without any fear, she swooped down, ignored the pull of her chains, and bit his thumb; she threatened to tear it off as she yanked herself back and tightened her hold. Smirking, he slapped her and ripped open her mouth with his other hand. Everyone hissed, but he simpered and applauded her.

"Leah Clearwater," he stated. "You're a little spit fire, aren't you?"

His hands grappled her waist, moving up and down her sides.

"If you keep touching me, I'll rip you to shreds," she threatened, making him titter with laughter.

"Ah, Leah, you flatter yourself way too much," Adastros orated, clearly amused. "I'm just making sure you didn't have any weapons."

"Can we cut to the chase? I'm bored of playing this cat-and-mouse game," Leah verbalized before yawning. "Especially when we know who the winner will be."

"I like you, Leah. You're different—"

"Different like Leila? Talented and witty like Leila?"

In an instant, his irises flared and flamed with profound loathing, but he cooled and composed himself almost as quickly.

"She has done an impressive job, hasn't she?" Alecto questioned rhetorically, grinning broadly and proudly. "Of course, I was skeptical in the beginning, but she's a tremendous warrior. And her gift—well, let's just say, she comes in handy really often. And she has such a witty personality."

Adastros' fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly, but he grinned with an edge and neared her once more.

"I'm very lucky to have her as my daughter. She has all the qualities I admire: determination, strength, spirit and intelligence."

Adastros craned his neck towards his father and smirked maliciously.

"But she wouldn't have had all those qualities unless—"

"Nonsense, Adastros," his father quieted. "She had all those qualities before you revived her. We simply guided her in the right direction."

Leah barked with laughter, intriguing Alecto.

"I've heard so much about you, Leah," he orated before glissading closer. "I've wondered so much about you. And now, I have the opportunity to learn more about you—to understand you."

She spat in his cornea, but he laughed, pleased by her antics.

"I like you, Leah. Very much. You remind me so much of—"

But he paused, expression temporarily darkening before dramatically softening and gladdening.

"No matter," he amended placidly. "As is customary, Leah, would you like to join our ranks?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I will never join you."

"Never say never, dearest."

"Because you never know what the future has in store," she recited from memory.

"So you're aware of that?"

"Of course."

"Your parents told you that."

"Ever since I was a child."

"Your parents are very wise. Well, I should fix that and say that your father was very wise and your mother still is," Alecto vocalized, astonishing her. "It's a small world. Everyone talks. Information spirals."

"And you have the ability to figure it out," she pointed out.

"Perceptive."

"Thanks, I try," she muttered sardonically.

"Now, let me try," he started, beaming brightly. "You're Leah Clearwater, approximately eighteen years old—although your birthday is coming surprisingly soon. I bet you haven't told your friends yet. Let's see, you came here before, but you met my ex second-in-command and his son—"

"A traitorous bastard," Adastros interjected.

"But he was extremely skilled. He would've continued thriving in our ranks if you had helped him with Leila," Alecto reprimanded lightly, although his eyes blazed with an emotion she could not easily decipher.

"You know that there was the possibility—"

"Adastros, enough," Alecto proclaimed firmly.

"I'm sorry, father. I've overstepped my boundaries."

"Yes, you have," he confirmed before lightening his disposition. "I'm sorry, Leah. It really wasn't fair that we were interrupted. We were having such a nice chat."

But she analyzed Adastros, who rectified his impeccable posture and glowered. He very deliberately and purposefully lightened his features, resembling his gleeful father, who lightly touched her forehead. She recoiled, scowled and hissed when he brushed her forehead.

"Stop, Alecto!" Drakon commanded, piqued.

"Drakon, don't be selfish," Alecto chastised, amused. "You can have her soon. I just want to understand her. She's quite an enigma."

"Alecto—"

"My dearest Lailah, please compose yourself. We'll get to you soon enough."

His fingers stroked her temples before delving into the roots of her hair.

"You should—"

"The longer you try to distract me, the longer I will detain you," Alecto declared calmly but cynically.

He finally retracted, features morphing pitifully before settling into cautious concern.

"My, you've been through so much."

"I guess."

"Don't soften it, Leah. You've been through a lot. You've seen a lot. You're a warrior in every sense of the word."

"Thanks—but I think that praise would've been much more pleasing under better conditions," Leah stated sarcastically before rolling her eyes and sighing when he grinned.

"Honestly, Leah, I've experienced betrayal first hand—first from my wife and then my sister," Alecto stated. "I understand how hard it can be. You put all your soul and being into one person; you tell them that you love them and will always love and protect them, but then they stab you in the back with the thing that hurts you the most. They go behind your back and and then try to slaughter you. I understand, Leah. I truly do."

And his eyes burned into her soul.

"You fell for Sam. You loved him so much. You gave him everything you possibly could've given him. You gave him your heart and soul. Everything beautiful you possessed. And the moment he shifts, he stabs you in the back," Alecto proclaimed, reviving the situation. "You know that the imprinting bond can be changed. It doesn't have to be a romantic bond, but he made it romantic. He could've been her friend—her brother, her confident—but he chose to pursue her romantically. And what makes it worse is that your cousin fell into his trap and stabbed you in the back. Then, he married her and invited you personally—with the sorry excuse that she wanted you there on her special day. And when you got there, you saw the expression that you had longed to see on your marriage day with him. So you ran away, and everyone judged you. They still do. Then he impregnated her and named the child after the name that you had chosen with him for your child—when you thought you could have children. That's when you went to get checked and realized that you couldn't have children. They're living your dream. And what did you get stuck with? Nothing but misery."

"You're so right, Alecto."

But she cackled manically and trudged forward, ignoring the chains secured around her throat.

"He could've chosen to be friends with her instead of lovers; he could've tried to stop stringing me along; he could've done a million and one things better. But he didn't," Leah verbalized, completely composed. "And she didn't either. They betrayed me, but they didn't want to. And I believe that everything happens for a reason. She's the better fit for him. And it took me a long, long time to realize that."

He traveled forward, perplexed.

"But I'm happy now. I know where I belong now. And everything in the past has helped me become who I am now. And I couldn't be prouder of myself."

Adastros applauded, but Alecto silenced him.

"And I almost feel bad that you haven't recovered from your wife and sister's betrayal."

"What makes you think that I haven't recovered?" Alecto prompted, intrigued.

"Because you have the same look that I used to have. Because you still feel bitter over it. Because you still feel so many conflicting emotions and have delved yourself completely into a cause that you know will ultimately fail," Leah divulged, watching as he contemplated her words.

"You're wiser than what I thought."

"And you're stupider than what I thought."

Alecto laughed, clapping his hands together and composing himself.

"Such spirit. It's so refreshing!"

She bore her eyes into his corrupted soul and blighted his faith. For a moment, his eyes flickered with the memory of his previous failures, but he rectified himself and imprinted her with the mark of his fingers.

"It was nice to talking to you, Leah, but I'm afraid we're going to have to leave now."

"Because you're afraid of what I figured out. Because you're afraid of showing your son that you haven't completely forgotten your mate and your sister and that their betrayal haunts you to this day! Because you're a pathetic, pitiful, sniveling creature who should roll in his waste and misery and does!" Lailah screeched while glaring and forcing her chin up when Alecto suddenly stalked in her direction.

"Hush, child," he shushed. "Hasn't your mother taught you to close your pretty little mouth?"

"And I'm sure your mother hadn't taught you to—"

He gripped her lips before forcefully scratching the insides of her mouth; he then stretched and distended her tongue, threatening to cut it off, while Aristo screamed curses and damnations. Alecto serrated her tongue before choking her. She flailed but hissed when he continued to strangle her.

"Stop it!" Aristo shouted, frenzied.

"I'm sorry, Aristo, but your mate has to know when to shut her mouth. And what better way than to stop her from ever speaking again," Alecto replied calmly.

Everyone screeched with indignation when he tightened his hold over her throat and nailed her.

"Please let her go," Aristo supplicated, wide-eyed and helpless.

"She has to learn her lesson. Speaking out of turn is extremely rude."

The constraints repressed her physically, stopping her from getting her revenge. She groaned and desperately withered against her restraints. But he merely laughed. Darkness approached, inundating her.

"Let her go!" Drakon snarled. "I know that you're just doing this to get to me. I know you're just doing this to kill me inside and fracture us from the inside. That's why Lailah was tortured in front of me. That's why I was allowed to escape alive. That's why all of us were able to escape alive. You want to get to our parents through us; you want to break us from the inside until we're so fractured that our entire cause crumbles."

He momentarily halted, causing her to wheeze and insufflate shallowly.

"What makes you think that?"

"You've had multiple opportunities to kill us, but you've never done it; you've killed people around us who impacted us greatly," Micah mentioned, features contorting darkly. "Take me for example: you managed to kidnap and trap Alma, Aramis and myself. You tortured us all, but you killed them. You killed them in front of me without remorse, without any mercy, and you let my parents retrieve me. And it happened on my birthday, too, and because I was being so damn insistent. You knew what it would do to me, to all of us, but especially me."

"But, Micah, I never meant—"

"Cut the act. We all know who you are and what you're capable of," Micah interjected, infuriated.

"You're right," Alecto admitted, eyebrows furrowed, forehead creased, eyes narrowed. "And because you're right—well, I guess I'm just going to have to show my true colors."

He released Lailah and barely glanced at her when she collapsed. She instinctively grappled her throat and crawled away from the monstrous beast; she slowly attached herself onto the wall and caught her breath and—

Alecto slammed her onto the ground and put his knees on her stomach. After gesturing at Adastros, he wandered forward and restrained her with more chains.

"I'm sorry, Lailah, but your friends have forced my hand. I wasn't going to do anything too serious at first, but they want me to," Alecto said softly while stroking the side of her face. She flinched but detonated when he punched her throat. "Listen, Lailah. I'm not the one to blame here. They are."

Sighing, he gestured to Adastros, who let four muscular soldiers inside their confinement. Immediately, Leah growled and struggled; she shouted and cursed and twisted violently.

"Don't do this. Please don't do this to her," Aristo pleaded. "You can have me, but not her. Please not her."

"You should've thought about that before. This is your punishment."

When the two women and men wandered forward, Alecto ascended and waved his hands forward. They trampled and squashed her throat, wounded and serrated her neck, traveled down and stomped on her chest. They kicked her gut, making her retch and choke on her own vomit. They fractured her knees, broke her ankles, and dislocated her hips. They stomped all over her pelvis. She wanted to shriek, but she couldn't. She really couldn't.

"Stop!" Aristo begged frantically.

"You have to stop now!" Leah exclaimed.

"Why, Leah?" Alecto prompted curiously, clearly unaffected.

"Because we're going to kill you," she vowed. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

Ignoring her, he marched forward, stopped their assaults, and proceeded to kick her head until she blacked out; he continued kicking her head, creating wide wounds that released a pool of blood. When he finished, he rose. Blood smeared his pant legs and shoes.

"You forced me to do this. You forced me."

"You bastard! When I get my hands on you—"

"I still have her life in my hands, Micah," Alecto vocalized. "Her heart slows with every passing second. She'll die eventually. But if you keep interrupting me, I'll kill her painfully. Let her die relatively painlessly. It's the least you can do for being a lousy brother."

Silence reigned until Alecto stepped forward and stood in front of Leah. Her eyes blazed with the promise of death.

"You look angry."

"I'm not angry."

"Then how do you feel?"

"I'm sure you already know."

"Then tell me what I already know."

"I'm feeling murderous," Leah stated maliciously. "And you know that's dangerous because you motivated us. You motivated all of us. We're going to kill you. And we're going to enjoy it. It might not be today, but it will be eventually. Mark my words."

"That's quite a threat—"

"So don't take it lightly," Leah snarled before spitting on him.

"I really love your spirit, Leah. And on a good day, I would appreciate Lailah's, but she's so disobedient and so are you. So are you," he murmured thoughtfully before suddenly lurching forward and sliding his fingers along her cheeks. "You're an enigma, Leah Clearwater. An enigma I need to solve."

"But you're not good at solving puzzles, Alecto," Leah snarked. "Otherwise, your wife wouldn't have betrayed you. Otherwise, your sister wouldn't have traded your life in exchange for her son's. Otherwise, you wouldn't be this pathetic—"

Abruptly, he slapped her before bashing her head and taking advantage of her disoriented state. Drakon bellowed and wailed, but his cronies throttled him; he wheezed and heaved when they constrained her with more chains.

"I admire you, Leah, but you have to learn that interrupting conversations is rude."

"And you have to learn that, if you treat people this way, they'll hate you. Was this how you treated your wife? Is this why she left you? I bet she—"

He sundered her and ripped apart her flesh before unveiling a familiar blade; he lengthened it before clouting the side of her head and then cleaving underneath her skin. She shrilled and withered when he repeatedly impaled and retracted his weapon; she thrashed violently, erratically, desperately. Alecto suddenly overturned her and tightened the restraints over her neck.

"Don't do this!" Drakon pleaded frantically. "I'll take her place. I promise I'll take her place!"

"But that won't fracture you, Drakon, and like you said I wanted to fracture—"

"Please!" Drakon supplicated.

"I'm f-fine," Leah rasped.

"Alecto, leave her alone!" Micah shouted.

"You have to leave her alone!" Aristo screamed desperately.

"No, all of you insisted that this was my only intention. I have to go through with it. All of you are to blame. Lailah dies. And so does Leah. Such a pity. Both girls could—"

And he halted, irises kindling and inflaming.

"Adastros, come here."

He crouched in front of his father, who grappled his shoulders and simpered sinistrally. Alecto riveted the two withering girls around him and glanced at the three boys surrounding him.

"You can bring them back."

"Of course."

"Bring them back?" Micah questioned worriedly.

Adastros merely grinned.

"Like Leila?" Drakon pressured.

"Dearest Leah, you'll come back as good as new," Alecto promised, "but first, you have to die."

Leah resisted, fighting and coughing, retching and choking. He traced the blade along her throat and nicked her; he moved down and sliced open her chest. Leah convulsed and shrieked before he lengthened her lacerations and made them profounder.

"They did this to you. And you know it. You wouldn't be in this—"

"Shut up, you fu—"

"You know it, Leah! You wouldn't be in danger if it wasn't for them!"

Zealously, he serrated the crown of her head before chopping off her hair and moving his blade along the sides of her face; she flinched but continued glowering and bleeding profusely.

"You're going to regret this," she vowed furiously.

"When you come back, you'll understand," he promised before reeling back his blade and steadying her flailing form and—

Abruptly, he stopped. The faint sounds of struggling, fighting, screaming, and shouting reached his ears. Immediately, he analyzed his his victims, gathered his son, and determinedly glanced back at his opponents; his eyes darted back-and-forth before he finally extracted himself from the scene of the crime.

"Macy, make sure these two are taken care of."

A vivacious, auburn-haired woman dutifully sauntered forward before nodding at her superiors, who instantly vanished. Macy silently ordered two of her companions to free Lailah; the two men who handled her jostled her twice before experimentally prodding her open wounds. The distressed roars of their fallen companions flowed through their ears. Macy and her blond-haired ally detained Leah, stabilizing and rectifying her before reeling back their blade and—

Bombarded with unbelievable rage, Drakon growled ferociously. Micah and Aristo mirrored his infuriated actions and twisted in their restraints; their combined fury fostered to the point where their inner darkness unleashed itself from the pits of their souls and blackened their adversaries' face. After withering violently, they bolted from their shackles and burned and scorched their chests and eyes before collecting their companions.

The sounds intensified. Drakon freed Leah, who speedily ascended and cracked her injured back; she grunted and winced, bleeding profusely and wobbling slightly on her feet. Drakon held her waist and put pressure on her lacerations. Lailah's heart slowed; her face whitened; her forehead overheated. Inhaling with astonishment and revulsion, Leah stepped forward and turned when the entrance banged open. Delia and Nicodemus entered, sweating and huffing from overexertion.

"Oh dear Lord!" Delia exclaimed before hurrying forward. Nicodemus guarded the entrance, but his face darkened with hatred when he noticed their deteriorating health.

"We should've hurried," Nico muttered.

"You did the best you could. And we knew what we were signing up for," Micah stated while sorrowfully glancing at his younger sister.

"But—"

"It's fine," Leah amended while flinching. Drakon loosened his hold, but he continued shielding her.

Immediately, Delia brushed over Lailah's serrations and healed her throat; she furrowed her eyebrows and creased her forehead before swiping her fingers along her neck and bones. Lailah rejuvenated, blinking rapidly before shifting towards from her mate and smiling at all of them. But she stopped and grappled her throat.

"I wasn't able to heal your throat," Delia whispered gravely. "I think it'll heal over time, but I wasn't able to heal it."

Lailah gulped thickly, anguished but unwilling to express it.

Thank you, she mouthed before looking away and swallowing.

Aristo embraced her from the side. Nico experimentally shuffled forward, cracked the entrance and turned the corner before returning and nodding with confirmation.

"We did it. The plan worked," he orated, momentarily pleased.

Delia put her hands under Leah's shirt and grazed her ribcage, but she scowled; she moved further and further up her ribcage before dropping and healing her open lacerations. She traveled across her throat and her head, healing her fully but looking extremely remorseful.

"What's wrong?" Leah questioned.

"They used the same blade that they used with Drakon," she responded.

"Then what's the—"

And she stopped, glancing at Drakon who paced around the expanse and ruffled his hair.

"You have scars," Delia answered quietly.

"It's okay," Leah uttered confidently. "I knew what I was getting myself into when we planned to let them capture us. I knew it all, so none of you have the right to feel guilty."

"But—"

"Nothing. And I'm done with this conversation. We have more important matters to attend to," Leah amended before exiting and following the sounds of their superiors.

Chrysanthe and Aprodisios ordered the execution of Alecto's most faithful servants and advisors.

It was a bittersweet victory.

* * *

Everything had fallen together.

Blood pooled beneath her bare feet, but it no longer mattered.

Everyone exploded with exuberance. The repressed adults gasped with astonishment at their success. They laughed breathlessly and embraced their loved ones; the children whooped and ran around—lively and lovely with their cheerful dispositions.

Instinctively, Leah beamed, eyes glistening, smile widening further and further when a multitude of children bustled around.

"The children are the happiest," Aprodisios whispered, features soft with sweet remembrance.

"Did they see anything?"

"Nothing at all. They were locked away—shielded from the violence."

"Good," Leah orated, satisfied. "At least we can preserve their innocence a little longer."

Aprodisios nodded before gripping her hand and stroking the side of her sweat-drenched face.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She hesitated but nodded.

"I'm okay. I don't think—"

And she gestured at Drakon, who swung two little girls around and boomed with laughter. They shrieked with genuine happiness and pleaded for more spins. Drakon gathered them into his arms before suddenly rotating them around and around and finally stopping and tickling their sides. But he felt her gaze and guiltily stared at her. The little girls surrounded him and whispered into his ears. He nodded and simpered and murmured back to them. They sprinted towards her and giggled when Drakon protested but grinned.

"He says you're very pretty!" one shrieked.

"And we agree!"

"He likes you."

And they giggled. She crouched down in front of them and cupped her fingers around her mouth.

"Do you really think so?" she prompted, joking.

"Of course!"

"Then tell him that I like him, too, and want him to be happy," she whispered, softening when they determinedly sprinted back and shared their news.

Drakon paused, posture straightening. But he slackened his muscles and met her expectant and reproachful gaze. He nodded and smiled. The little girls attacked him before whispering into his ears again and then promptly fleeing. He grinned thoughtfully before marching over to her.

"What did they say?" Leah asked curiously.

"Something very interesting," he responded, filled with mirth.

"Something you're willing to share with the rest of us?" Leah prompted.

"Maybe one day," he evaded, guffawing when she punched his shoulder and swatted his arms.

"Tell me!"

"One day!"

"No now," she ordered.

"One day," he promised before ducking her onslaught and running away.

"Coward!" Leah shouted before shaking her head fondly.

Aprodisios grinned broadly, clearly amused.

"I think he'll be okay," Aprodisios whispered tenderly.

"I think so, too," Leah murmured, reassured.

* * *

But tragedy struck.

And Leah sprinted far, far away from the infirmary. She blocked her ears with her hands and moved into the surrounding trees; she delved further and further into the profoundest pits of the forest before suddenly collapsing and heaving and hyperventilating. She shook her head and convulsed erratically—tremors inundating her completely and forcing her onto the ground, where she curled up and gathered her knees inside her arms.

Suddenly, she screamed, horrified, disgusted, revolted. She shrieked and pounded her fists against the ground; she tugged uselessly at her roots until she pulled them out and cursed some more. But three pairs of warm hands encompassed her and soothed her. Nauseated, she retched and vomited and leaned against their holds. Leah sniffled and sniveled, whitened and perspired. Slowly, she relaxed and wiped away her tears.

"That's despicable," Leah rasped, infuriated.

"It is," Carabelle whispered while caressing her cheeks. "They're abominations, but we'll get them and kill them."

"They don't even deserve death; they deserve to be tortured for the rest of eternity, but knowing them, they'll probably get pleasure from it," Leah proclaimed while gritting her teeth. "No one deserves to be—"

And she choked, unable to say it. Drakon embraced her tightly, trying to shield her from her horrors and fears. But she persisted.

"No one deserves to be infertile. How could he just inject them and take away their infertility? How can he claim that he's helping them? How can he stop people from having children when they want children? What's wrong with him?" she ranted before calming down. "No one deserves to be infertile. No one."

"No one does," Alcander repeated.

"Absolutely no one," Drakon muttered woefully before placing his head on top of hers. "But they're strong people, and they're not going to let this get them down; they're fighters, and this is just another fight they're going to overcome."

"You're absolutely right," Leah declared, suddenly filled with gratitude.

* * *

The Bellators had been restored.

And they had returned, exhausted but unwilling to concede.

An unfamiliar murmur swarmed them.

"What's happening?" Leah questioned.

"I don't know," Cara murmured before seeking her mother, who immediately whisked them away.

"It's no secret what happened, but her whereabouts are a secret. Leila escaped, but she didn't leave. She had the chance to do it, but she didn't. She just wandered the halls and showed up in the middle of our headquarters and taunted us. We locked her inside another room—one completely isolated from everyone. But she's intelligent, and it's only a matter of time before it happens again," Adara divulged, distressed.

"Has she said anything?" Artemisia asked.

"She doesn't say anything important, but I can tell that she's waiting."

"Can we see her?" Acacia inquired, perturbed.

"Go ahead. I'll show you where she is."

They wound their way around multiple corridors and ascended until they reached her confinement. Calder monitored them when they arrived, looking worn out and malnourished.

"She's been giving you trouble?" Leah questioned rhetorically. His jaw tightened; his eyebrows furrowed; his heart hammered erratically.

The entrance opened once more, revealing two frantic soldiers who spoke quickly and furtively.

"There are rebels in the forest!"

Leah bounded forward, but Cara detained her.

"Half of us will go, and the other half will stay here," Carabelle proclaimed.

"But—"

"No, Leah. We need to know what Leila knows, and she seems to always confide in you and Acacia. Please, Leah," Carabelle supplicated.

She stayed, gnawing desperately on her lips as she watched Carabelle disappear with Alcander, Artemisia, Acastus, Admes and Charmeine.

"She'll be okay, right?" Leah asked, suddenly filled with dread.

"She'll be okay," Acacia stated, although dread settled at the pit of her stomach.

They entered the interrogation room and analyzed Leila, who stopped humming and bounced on her heels. She suddenly sprinted forward and embraced them.

"You two look exhausted," she stated. "But you have a right to be. You've been tortured, but you managed to get the bad guys rounded together. And what else? Oh yes, you've restored the Bellators!"

Leah paused, startled.

"How—"

"Information gets around easily," she sang.

"Anything you want to share with us?" Acacia baited.

"Not yet."

"Why?" Leah prompted.

"Because it isn't time."

"Leila, we don't have time for games—"

"But, Acacia, you're entire life is a game," Leila interjected innocently.

"Leila, please just tell us—"

"I should be more considerate, shouldn't I?" Leila interrupted thoughtfully. "Yes, I should be, shouldn't I? You two must be tired and disgusted—definitely not in the mood for games—but I love guessing games!"

"Leila—"

"Let's play!" she encouraged while clapping her hands. "It'll be fun! And if you guess correctly, then you can stop this from happening."

"We don't—"

"First clue!" she exclaimed happily. "It's going to happen in the Dark Forest."

"There's a fight right now," Leah orated pensively.

"Okay then," Leila uttered before grinning. "Then clue number two: it involves two of your friends. Any guess who?"

Leah gulped thickly, filled with heed. Acacia circulated the expanse of the confinement, barely repressing herself from shouting.

"Come on! Guess!"

Feeling dizzy but determined, she hurried and said, "Carabelle."

"Correct!" Leila shouted gleefully. "And?"

Leah quivered erratically, unable to control herself.

"Drakon?"

"Nope!" Leila exclaimed. "Guess again! Whose life would devastate Carabelle the most?"

"Alcander."

"Ding, ding, ding!" Leila shouted, gladdened.

Leah and Acacia quaked tremendously.

"Clue number three: the action that is going to happen to them has happened to many of you."

Acacia stopped, turning ghastly and sweaty.

"They're g-going to g-get k-kidnapped."

"Ding, ding ding!" Leila confirmed, exuberant.

And suddenly chaos exploded. The sirens sounded.

Alistair bounded through the entrance, panicked and feverish.

"They took Carabelle and Alcander."

* * *

Exciting news: I'll be starting my first day of college tomorrow! I'll try to upload every two days, but if I can't, it's most likely because I'm doing orientation events... Sorry!

Anyways, I have to warn everyone that the next chapter may be a bit graphic.

Thanks for reading!


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